The Hidden Truth
by Peacharwen77
Summary: Three years after the events of "The Demon Faced," Legolas & Enguina have a joyous announcement-they have been blessed with a child! This news is received with all joy, but a shadow within the Council begins to fully take shape and the impatience for an heir to Aragorn's throne leaves Arwen and Gondor struggling for answers. What matters most: sacrificial love...or a successor?
1. Chapter 1

"Enguina! Are you coming inside for breakfast?"

Enguina heard Erumar's words, but they did not sink deeply enough into her brain for her to process them and then answer her; in fact, it was only a second before she entirely forgot someone had spoken. She was seated outside in her garden as she had been for nearly an hour. This morning she had woken with the dawn— _annoying_ —and with no good reason to be awake. Legolas would have said that there must have been a reason, but she was more likely to assume it was because the bundle of mischief inside her refused to let her lie down longer than four hours put together before it decided to wake up and bounce around. If Legolas had been there, he would have laughed at her musings and kissed the top of her head—but he was not.

She breathed in the scent of the flowers around her and smiled even though her heart panged with _longing_ for Legolas and his arms. _Why_ did he have to be away? Oh, she knew the answer to that—Gimli had begged him to come to the Glittering Caves, and there was no chance he would not go at least for a little while. Legolas had not seen Gimli in little under two years, and the separation had been difficult on all of them. Even though she and Legolas were happily married, both of them had been missing the companionship they had found in the dwarf…and they were _quite_ happily married indeed.

When she had come to Gondor to visit Arwen, she had not an inkling of the way Ilúvatar was about to touch and alter her life. To meet Legolas, to come to know him—to come to love him—had made such a difference in her choices. He had been her husband, she his wife, for little over three years now. They had been _glorious_ years. They had spent so much time enjoying and celebrating the gift of one another that they had made little time for anything else aside from building their home. Tilting her head, she could easily see the glen where they had lovingly crafted it with the help of friends and family, the paddock and barn nearby for Lómë and Brethil. She _loved_ their home, even the slightly crooked wall in the back guest room that made her smile and think of Gimli and Thranduil with love every time she saw it.

Then, after nearly three years of wedded bliss, Ilúvatar in his infinite grace had blessed them abundantly. Enguina had discovered she was with child! It seemed to her that the love of Ilúvatar continued to overflow, just as it was always promised to. When they realized that she was carrying a child, she and Legolas had been thrilled—and terrified. What would it be like? Much to her surprise, her pregnancy had been easy so far. She had not felt ill one day yet, though she supposed that was because she was an elf. All that seemed to be affecting her was the baby's sleep time; he desired to be awake when _she_ desired to be asleep. Nevertheless, she had originally felt she could have wanted nothing more than to be happy with Legolas. She had been complete. Now, nothing could have filled her with more joy: to know that she was going to bear a child into this world that would be part of her and Legolas, to know that they had made this child together...

She knew that when she had met Legolas she had been blessed for all time, but the gift of a child was beyond her ability to comprehend. She had not expected something so wonderful so soon. Her thoughts once more turned inward as she felt the little one move inside her. _Girl or boy?_ She wondered, but it made little difference for she would love and adore him or her; she already did. Rubbing her hand along her stomach, she sang the little lullaby she had made the babe in the time Legolas had been away.

 _Little dove within me, hear my gentle song_

 _Lifting o'er the meadows, sighing soft and long_

 _Mother is near, Mother is calling_

 _Do you know whose voice so sweet?_

 _Father journeys, yet comes swiftly_

 _O'er the fields rides his white steed_

 _La-la-lum, la-la-lum,_

 _La-la-la-lay_

 _La-la-lum, la-la-lum_

 _La-la-la-lay_

 _A Father cannot travel far_

 _The rhythm brings him homeward bound_

 _For Mother's loving arms are waiting long_

 _And his heart is full of hearth and home_

 _And you my little one within me_

 _So safe and warm and close inside_

 _Will one day ride beside your Father_

 _Traveling through the woods, away_

 _La-la-lum, la-la-lum,_

 _La-la-la-lay_

 _La-la-lum, la-la-lum_

 _La-la-la-lay_

"It is so beautiful to hear your sweet voice," sighed Erumar from somewhere behind her. Enguina startled easily and looked over at her in surprise.

"Oh! I did not hear you come out of the house," she replied with a blush. Just as she said the words, she remembered Erumar _had_ spoken to her. "You did announce your presence, did you not? I do not know why I did not answer you."

Erumar smiled as she came around before her, noticing her embarrassment. "Oh, it is nothing, Enguina! You were singing so lovingly that when I saw you at last that I did not want to disturb you. Though you do sing more than you did in the last thirty years, I am not often privileged enough to hear it."

"That is because I am uncomfortable about others listening to me sing," she said honestly.

"You should not be," Erumar chided her. "I have heard Legolas tell you a hundred times—"

"A hundred times a _thousand_ ," Enguina interrupted with a smile, "but that makes it no easier. Come and sit with me." She touched the seat beside her, and Erumar did what she asked. "I am _not_ an early riser, as you well know," she admitted with a sigh, "and I began with a bit of irritation at this wonderful being inside me, but...it _is_ a nice morning, so I have forgiven the babe."

Erumar gave her a wry smile and said, "It is important not to remain angry with the baby. It will do you no good." She rolled her eyes. "And I have known you for many years, Enguina. Anyone who knows you would remember you prefer to sleep in the mornings, though you have learned to be awake sometimes to enjoy it with Legolas." She looked out across the meadow and sighed. "There is something about this place, so beautiful and fragrant. It is June and you can _still_ smell the flowers as though they are just coming in bloom. It reminds me so of Lórien…when the Lady was still within it."

Enguina laughed. "Oh, my dear, that is _Gondor_. And yes, it reminds me so much of old Lórien that way. Wherever the Lady would walk there were such flowers! Yet here it is the same; Gondor blossoms in the celebration of the King on his throne."

"Ten years Aragorn has been King—"

"And it has been nearly three since we have seen him," Enguina added with a groan. "Three _years_ since I have seen Arwen."

"But you have spent three lovely years here in Ithilien. You have made good memories."

"Oh, of course, Erumar!" Enguina said, reaching over and touching her hands. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful in the _least_ way. I am thrilled that you are here with me and that Thranduil stayed for so long with us. Even Gimli was here as well and…"

Erumar tightened her hands on Enguina's. "You are missing your best friend."

Enguina looked sheepish. "I went without for nearly seventeen years. I should be all right for three, do you not think?"

"No, this last time was different," she replied softly. "You found your heart; you have been more alive in the last three and a half years than you had been in the last forty. Your relationship with Arwen, _and_ with her husband, has changed for the better. It has grown into something more than it ever was." She smiled. "Even being as you are with child, that is why you had to let Legolas visit Gimli when the messenger came."

"I _miss_ him," she caught herself whining. Frowning deeply, she sighed. "Forgive me. When I get like this I want to scream in annoyance." She looked down at her own hands. "I am sure you do as well. Perhaps even louder than me."

Erumar laughed. "I most certainly do not! Stop saying such things."

"I _hate_ this feeling of longing," Enguina groaned. "I used to be so independent—"

"And then you married," Erumar interjected with a smirk. "Oh, your life is _so_ terrible."

Enguina looked at her slyly. "Speaking of something other than life being terrible, I think _you_ have been more alive in the last two years than you have in those after the War."

Rolling her eyes, Erumar gave her a good-natured smile. "Oh, this again?"

"In fact," Enguina said honestly, "I do not know if I have ever seen you this alive. What an interesting change."

"Do not poke fun," Erumar warned, and then she softened. "It is…nice…to come back to the world after feeling so lost in it for _so_ long."

Enguina nodded. "Oh, I know. I could not agree with you more."

"Yes," Erumar continued softly, "you would very much understand that."

Enguina's stomach suddenly turned, her nose crinkling with the smell of burning meat. "What is that terrible—"

Erumar's eyes suddenly widened in horror and she leapt to her feet. "Dear Eru, the sausages!" Turning, she bolted down the path towards the house, Enguina laughing at her fleeing figure. She, in fact, remained for several more moments before she too finally stood to follow.

She reached out and traced her fingers gently across the beautiful Elvish script that Legolas had carved into the seat's wooden frame. "Come home to me soon, my darling," she whispered, laying her hand on her abdomen. "Hurry to both of us. We miss you."

* * *

 _I see your ocean magnificent, Lord_

 _I hear the gulls cry their praise_

 _The sand is warm with the heat of the sun_

 _In honor of you, my voice I raise_

 _I sing for I cannot be silent_

 _In the presence of such majesty_

 _This morn is for my eyes alone_

 _I feel peace, and forever free_

 _From burdens, from chaos, from life itself_

 _The touch of your hand is what I need_

 _Your faithfulness, your steadfast love_

 _The quiet of the sky, the sea_

 _Renew my heart; keep me in your will_

 _I lay my cares before your seat_

 _Find any ill way in me_

 _And lead me to sit at your feet_

Her song complete, Arwen sat staring out upon the ocean's waves, captivated as each one rolled into the shoreline near her feet. The water just lapped at her toes; soon she would either need to retreat, or be willing to get wet. At the moment, she was not inclined to move. There were few things that blessed her heart as much as being alone with Ilúvatar. The cry of the gulls echoed in her ears and the ocean was simply a sight for her eyes. There were few clouds in the sky, and those that were present caught the light and reflected it upwards, making the sun's rays spread out like a fan. The reds, purples, and oranges lit her face as she deeply breathed in the salty sea air. It brought peace to her soul. She breathed out and leaned back on her hands, her fingers splaying out into the sand, the natural wind of the ocean whipping her dark hair back and forth across her face—she paid it no mind. Her eyes saw only what was before her.

 _What a pleasant morning, Father. I am touched by your Presence; I am reminded that there are days that you paint the sky just for my eyes. What a wonderful gift you have provided for me. Thank you; thank you, Father. Such a spectacular view to share with me as we journey homeward. How I needed a last few moments of peace!_

Closing her eyes, she continued to let the ocean breeze caress her face. It just felt so good to be still. She was so used to busyness; the last few months had been full of meetings and a struggle to make peace with the Haradrim. Though she was not often included in the affairs of the men, she had remained very near to Aragorn's side through the negotiating, thankful to be included among Imrahil's people. But now, on their return journey, there was nothing more that she wanted than to be still.

A hand caressed her bare shoulder and brushed the length of her hair away from her back.

 _Except, perhaps, that._

Ilúvatar knew her better than she knew herself. She smiled as she felt Aragorn slide into a comfortable position behind her, and she sat forward only to lean back against him a moment later, resting her hand on his knee as his leg lay in the sand alongside her, toes bare just as hers were. Nestled tenderly against his chest, she turned her smiling face towards his neck where she felt the brush of his lips against her forehead.

"Hanyo réman, vanimelda, [Good morning, fair-love,]" Aragorn whispered, kissing her forehead again. "[You are awake and walking early this morning.]"

She smiled into his neck. "[Yet, I was not long without you. I am glad you are here.]"

"[I feel the absence of your presence, faithful one. My side grew cold.}"

She chuckled, but was silent a moment, opening her eyes and resting them once more on the Sea. He was quiet, too, as he listened to the waves beat on the cliffs and hearing the gulls cry. Aragorn smiled, closing his eyes against the breeze blowing in from the ocean. She glanced at his face and was caught off guard by his peacefulness, the joy he held in being with her and in the things that she also loved. He was so handsome, her great love. She was glad she had not missed a moment of his aging in the last three years. If anything, he appeared even more distinguished than he had when he had first become King. Ten years…something to celebrate.

Lowering his chin and tilting his head, he met her eyes. There was something to be said about meeting her gaze, something that passed through her to him and then back through their beautiful connection. It was like a pulse, pounding through them. _Love, love, love._

"I love this…" she said, though she had not wished to break the moment as she raised a hand to stroke his cheek. "Sharing the stillness…with you."

They had come to the shores of the Bay of Belfalas on their return journey from Dol Amroth. Still a part of Gondor, but mostly self-governed, Gondor needed to be present for the signing of treaties of peace with the Haradrim. Imrahil had needed their help. To see peace with those who had fought bravely for Sauron was nothing short of a miracle; both Aragorn and Imrahil had been excellent negotiators. They had spent several months there and now they were journeying home, taking a last few peaceful days by the Great Sea that poured into the Bay.

Aragorn ran a calloused hand along her shoulder again. "One of Ilúvatar's many blessings." He looked at her, so content in his arms, and wondered at how that would change when they returned home. Things were so very different here, in the Wild, away from all of the noise and commotion that the city of Minas Tirith brought with it. Here, they could be together and at peace. Here, they could find some solace in the One who brought them both into being. He looked down to her bare shoulder as her exposed flesh drew him in, begging him to kiss her. He studied the way her shoulder met the nape of her neck and bent his head to touch his lips to her throat.

She smiled and almost laughed at him, knowing he found it extremely difficult to resist her skin; the moment was very sensual. Her eyes closed as he stopped kissing her and simply rested on her shoulder; she knew he was just breathing her in. Gently winding her fingers into his hair, she whispered, "How I love you." The ocean lapped over her toes.

"Forgive me, beloved," he murmured into her. "Stirring those feelings in you when the encampment is just over the rise…"

"Mmm," she replied. "Inappropriate." She was teasing him.

"Completely," he agreed, yet he did not lift his head, nor she unwind her fingers except to stroke a finger along his right ear. "Though, we have had very little time alone these past few months. Perhaps we should take advantage of it now, when no one is about."

"Perhaps…" she replied, and then she smiled. "How long do you think we have?"

He let out a long, heated breath on her skin. "Never long enough to love you."

"I believe that is my answer then."

He lifted his head to look her in the eye with a mischievous look. "Can you imagine Mennev's reaction if he were to come to the hilltop?"

She gave him a smirk. "Mmm. That would be very mean."

"I know," he sighed, and he tightened his arms around her. "To picture the expression on his serious face, though…rather amusing."

"You would only embarrass him. Even now, he would blush to see us in such a state." She felt the water drawing higher, and she rubbed his knee gently beneath her hand. His feet were extended much farther into the water than hers. "Your feet are wet."

"And sandy." He raised one eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"Putting on your boots will be."

"If your dress gets soaking wet—"

"Stop with your teasing," she chided him, laying her head back against his shoulder. He rested his cheek against her hair, and both of them looked out again into the waves. "This has been a wonderful journey. I am grateful we were able to make it together."

"Yes," he agreed, "though I regret we will not be able to make our way past Ithilien on the way home."

Arwen smiled. "I miss Enguina, but I am certain she is well."

"And in good hands."

"Yes. I believe that marriage for her has been everything she hoped it would be…and if anything like us, much more than she expected."

He chuckled and kissed her gently before lifting his head. "Much, much more. For which I will never be able to thank Ilúvatar enough." He took one last look at the Sea. "Shall we help break camp? I hear the sounds of the men waking."

She nodded. "I heard them as well. I was trying to take in as much of this scene as I could; it may be a very long time before I see it again."

He pressed his lips to her temple. "Stay; enjoy the peace for a little while longer." He began to shift back and draw his knee up to rise but paused when her fingers tightened on him and she did not sit forward.

"Stay with me?" she asked softly. "Only a few moments longer."

Tightening his arms around her, he rested his cheek against her forehead. "Of course."

* * *

 _Skin pressed to Legolas's, back in the deep grass, and a face full of summer sun that woke her. The water of their brook tumbling over rocks fell on her ears and she shifted, feeling her husband's heavy weight on her and a grin lit her face. Blinking the dazzle from her eyes, she looked at the love laying within her arms, his head resting between her breasts, his hands curled at her side._

 _There was nothing more wonderful in her world than waking up to the touch of Legolas's skin against hers, the feel of him beside her, the smell of his body, his breath caressing her breast. After nearly two years of marriage, she was still unaccustomed to the miracle that was making love to him and being made love to by him. There was nothing like it; there never would be. Simply having him where he was at the moment, within her arms with his flesh against hers was enough to awaken her desire for him again. She had no idea how long they had been here, on the creek bank, but long enough that someone should have been asking where they were._

 _Raising her arms, she slowly ran her hands to and fro along his back, from hip to shoulder. There was no way she could abide waking and leaving him now; they were a fire that could not be controlled. They had learned months ago that if they truly desired to sleep, lying skin to skin and waking in the position they had fallen to when exhausted was not the answer. She looked forward to the waking of Legolas no matter what the time. She knew what followed when they fell asleep like this…a second wind—another round of love. They could hardly get enough of one another._

 _She let her left hand drag gently along his face, touching his nose, eyes, and smiling mouth._

Surprise!

" _I did not think you were awake," she whispered, hearing his thought in her head._

 _"It is difficult to sleep when you are touching me." Lifting his head with lazy eyes, he raised one eyebrow. "How long have we been asleep?"_

 _"No one is looking for us…" she muttered back as she felt his fingers uncurl and take her waist in his hands. "I have heard no voices."_

 _"By the sun on your breast," he replied, planting a kiss between them, "I would say we have been here for several hours, it is past noon, and my father has already found us and left us to each other."_

 _His words made her blush for more reasons than the mention of Thranduil._

So you are now telling the position of the sun by my breasts, my Prince?

You cannot blame me. _He pressed another kiss against her skin, brushing his nose against her a few times. She shivered, but tried to focus._

" _No, your father would never have come looking for us. He has a greater understanding than you know." She caught the smirk on his face. "You said that only to get a rise out of me."_

 _His fingers tickled the most sensitive places along her ribs where her skin tingled and she began to tremble visibly. "I know better ways to get a rise out of you, Guin."_

 _"Mmm…" He shifted against her and she wrapped her hands around his biceps, tugging at him so she could reach him with her mouth._ Come…please…

 _He gave in. She could sense the delight in his mind as he pressed his chest to hers, leaning hard on his hands to take some of the weight from her, kissing her. But she wanted that weight, his familiar pressure against her, and she slipped her leg over his to tug him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and another around his neck. His arms buckled with the force of her dragging him; he had not been ready for it. Her giggle sounded in his ears as he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him as she was pressed so tightly to him._

 _"I caught you off guard," she teased him softly, and he began mercilessly kissing her throat as she made sure to maneuver herself and rile him up, hands included. It worked, as he growled into her jugular._

 _"You drive me mad…"_

 _"Good." She began giggling again when his hands wrapped her waist again, this time an attempt to hold her still, not to tickle her._ Oh no, I think not, Legolas.

 _"Ilúvatar in Heaven," he muttered into her skin, "stop the giggle."_

 _It only made her do it more._

Enguina rolled over onto her back, groaning in frustration, images of Legolas lying on his back beneath her in the grass firing through her skull. Her hands felt as though they had just left his skin. There was no way in the depths of Morgoth she was going to be able to sleep. She tossed off the sheet, rubbed her face, and ungracefully clambered to her feet. Feeling parched and 'awake,' she made her way out to the dining room to fill a cup with water.

These dreams were driving her mad. This was the fifth one about her passion for her husband in less than two weeks; she wanted him home. Although most dreams of Legolas centered on her longing for him, some were simply about time spent together. Those dreams seemed to bring others into focus as well—Arwen, Aragorn, Faramir, Éowyn, even Thranduil. It had been too long since she had laid eyes on them. It was clear that she was lonely.

As she walked, she noticed a light coming from down the hall; Erumar must have been awake as well. Enguina came quietly around the corner and found her seated at the table, her head resting in her hands, eyes closed.

"What time is it?" Enguina asked, and Erumar started, dropping her hands from her face.

"You surprised me," she replied, studying her as she walked into the room.

"It is the middle of the night, is it not?" Enguina added. "What are you doing awake?"

Erumar tried to smile at her. "I could ask you the same." Enguina reached over and poured herself some water from the pitcher that already sat in front of her friend. "You had a dream," she added, looking at her face closely. She had noticed easily in the light that Enguina seemed a bit out of breath and her face bore a slight sheen of sweat.

Enguina laughed. "Can you hear my heart beating over there?" Erumar looked concerned, but Enguina only smiled, shaking her head. "Not quite what you are thinking."

Erumar's eyebrows raised. "You seem…different. Not—?"

"Not in the slightest." She took a seat across from her. "I was dreaming about Legolas."

Erumar laughed with her and leaned back in the chair. "Oh dear."

"Laugh all you want," she said, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. "I feel a bit miserable about it, honestly. I mean…it is unusually ridiculous to be having dreams about my missing husband. Never mind that they are…provocative."

"Forgive me for laughing."

"No, please," Enguina replied, smiling. "I cannot even begin to imagine how I must appear. These dreams are coming more frequently, and they are not only about him."

"Arwen?"

"Sometimes," she admitted, sighing. "Though obviously _those_ dreams are not the same. Sometimes the dreams are of others." She frowned thoughtfully. "Would you be terribly offended if I spoke plain?"

"Hardly," Erumar replied dryly. "I wish you would."

Enguina studied her, noticing a slight tightness around her friend's eyes. Something was not quite right…and there was no point in asking. Erumar would never speak of it; instead she would have to bargain. "Only if you will."

She rolled her eyes. "Perhaps. Now feel free to offend."

"I believe I am lonely," she said suddenly. "I would be utterly lost without you here with me, and I am so grateful that you stayed. I love you, Erumar, but I really do miss the others. I became so used to them, so used to the bustle of Minas Tirith that after three years out here, I feel as though I am missing something. I mean, it was quiet in Lórien, at the end, but this is different." She laughed at the look Erumar was giving her. "I know, I know! I said that I could _never_ get used to Minas Tirith. I would never want to live there, and that part at least remains true. I only miss certain things about it."

"It _is_ quiet here."

"Yes. Do you understand? I feel as though I do not know what is going on in the world, even though when I was in Lórien I never cared what was going on outside its borders. Honestly, could nearly five years change me so completely?"

"Your 'neighbors' here are few, and they do not live nearby," Erumar agreed. "You cannot walk out your door and visit the King's House."

"Or you," Enguina insisted. "Even in Lórien, people were close. It is not quite the same here. I enjoy the privacy, but…perhaps if Legolas were here I would not be feeling like this. I would not be feeling trapped in this house."

Erumar tilted her head. "Trapped? This is your home, Enguina. Where else should you be?" Enguina sighed, looking frustrated, and Erumar reached out, covering her hand. "Night changes many thoughts. You miss Legolas. This is your first separation from him; it is natural to miss him."

"It is?" Enguina looked completely relieved.

Erumar smiled. "Of course it is. I think we should certainly speak more about it…but perhaps in the morning light over breakfast. You and I should both be resting; it is so late."

Enguina's eyebrow rose. "You are running from this conversation."

"I am not," she denied. "I am reminding you about your well-being. You are with child—"

"Do not use that excuse," Enguina said, rolling her eyes. "I am perfectly fine, and sleep is useless when I am wide-awake. Tell me what woke you that _you_ are here. I stated what I am feeling; I thought I would share," she added pointedly.

It was Erumar's turn to roll her eyes heavenward. "Thoughts, Enguina. Thinking deep thoughts kept me awake."

"Who? What?"

"The future."

"Thranduil?"

Erumar shook her head, defeated. "Why must any discussion about my future be entwined with Thranduil in your mind? Honestly, Enguina—"

"Because you are thinking about him; because he clearly enjoys spending as much time with you as you do with him; because he invited you to visit him in Eryn Lasgalen—was fairly insistent about it as well." She crossed her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "So, if you were not thinking of Thranduil, what _were_ you thinking of?"

"If you must know, I was thinking what I should do with myself once your little one is born. I cannot stay here forever—"

"Yes, you—"

"—and I should not," she said firmly. "You and Legolas have a life together now. This is not the place I belong." Enguina and Erumar fell silent for a moment.

"Well," Enguina began, "if you have no intention of ever visiting Eryn Lasgalen, you could build a home here, not far from us. Perhaps you should think of that."

"I would not say I have no intention of _ever_ visiting," Erumar sighed. Enguina noticed Erumar's guard drop just before it happened, a thing that did not happen often. "I…do not wish Thranduil to get an impression of us together forever. I still do not know if that would ever be possible."

Enguina reached forward and set her hands over Erumar's. "Consider going. Thranduil does not expect forever, nor is he looking for it. You are good company for him. You _must_ see it. Everyone—and I mean _everyone_ —else does."

"That is…embarrassing." Erumar blushed and looked away. "And I do not think I wish to speak of it anymore." She got to her feet with an exaggerated smile. "Well, time for bed."

Enguina sighed. "Well, at least you are not angry about it as you used to be when I spoke this way, though you are still running. I suppose I should be happy with that bit of progress," she admitted, downing the rest of her water. Then she reached down and rubbed her belly. "If I am awake all night again because of this child, I am coming down to your room and waking you so you can please him. Nothing I do seems to make any change."

Erumar smiled, holding the lantern, as Enguina got to her feet. "Please, come and wake me. That I would be more than happy to stay awake for." She wrapped her arm around Enguina's shoulders and kissed her temple as the two of them made their way back toward their rooms.

"You may hear me up again," Enguina sighed. "If I have one more dream about Legolas, I may have to douse myself in cold water." Erumar smirked at her words.

"Perhaps you should sleep on the divan? Perhaps your bed is where your trouble begins."

Enguina shook her head, blushing. "If the trouble is with my bed because I have made love to Legolas there," she replied dryly, hooking a finger over her shoulder, "I had better go sleep in the barn."

Her friend broke up into laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

The last time Legolas remembered standing on the wall at Helm's Deep, he had seen a vast army of ten thousand Uruks pounding their lances against the ground, the whole night filled with the light and smoke of a thousand torches. Today, in the summer of Rohan, there was beauty across the plain before the Deeping Wall. Long, lush green grass grew everywhere in sight; his Elvish eyes could even see a small herd of horses grazing freely on a hilltop not far from himself. Resting his hands on the wall, he thought about that night, about all the men and elves who had given their lives to protect those within the caves and for the people of Rohan. He had but to turn only a little to his left and his shoulder would bump into the statue of Haldir. True to Aragorn's word, the statue had finally made its way here. Legolas wished Enguina were here to see it. Thinking of his wife made him flush with pleasure. Last night, whether she knew it or not, she had communicated her feelings to him through their bond. He would have to talk with her about doing that when he returned for it was not making his nights easy.

He grinned, and turned away from the wall to make his way back toward the Caves. There were many good morning's and nods from both Rohirrim and dwarves and he replied to each one, quite happy to be among them. He was nearly a King in his own right now; he held lordship of the Ithilien Elves as they had easily told him they would look to him for guidance. His father had laughed, telling him that he could not have avoided the title forever, and Legolas had simply shaken his head. It was what it was. His thoughts, however, were not on his Kingship, but on Enguina. As much as he was enjoying his time with Gimli and seeing the majesty that he and his people had performed in these caves for the last two years, he missed her terribly.

"Always up early!" laughed Gimli, holding his hand out to clasp Legolas's arm. The elf nearly passed him right by, but then reached over and caught his arm as well.

"Forgive me," he said, shaking his head. "My mind was on other things."

"A certain elf, perhaps?" The dwarf chuckled when Legolas gave him a wry smile. "You'll be leaving soon enough, Legolas, and then I'll be the one missing _you_ again."

"Gimli, I _have_ missed you, and I am very glad to be here. I only wish Guin were here to see it and share the experience as well." The two of them began to walk further into the cavern, Legolas continuing to study the beauty of the crystalline shards protruding all around. The longer he was here, the more he did find beauty in it.

"Well, I wish she were here, too, but I can't have everything I want," Gimli grumbled. Legolas looked down at him; he hardly ever wore his helm anymore, and his hair and beard had grown long and full since the wedding. It was braided, of course, to be out of the way, but it was good to see Gimli so relaxed among his own people. "She's havin' a baby, and she shouldn't be traveling. Especially with what's happened in the past, Legolas."

"She was not pleased with me when I left," Legolas admitted, "but I did not want to refuse another visit. We had not seen one another in nearly two years, and the house was complete."

"She'll be pleased when you arrive," Gimli chuckled, "as you'll be taking home a thousand gifts for her and that new baby of yours." Legolas began to protest and Gimli interrupted him, "I don't want to hear one word about anything I'm sending with you, miserable elf! If I want to make gifts to Enguina and the child, I _will_ , and I won't listen to you."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Gimli, we have more than enough. Ilúvatar has provided everything we—"

"Well of course he has!" Gimli said firmly. "But whenever you're leaving here, you're leaving with gifts. And if you think you're going to sneak out of here without them, then I'll have ponies follow you from here until the Anduin. And if you think you're going to leave them elsewhere, well—"

Gimli went on like this as they continued walking. Legolas simply shook his head. He loved his friend and would not think of refusing anything once the gifts had been given. He did not know when he would be leaving his friend's side, but he knew that it could not be long. His Lady was waiting.

* * *

It was unusual for the council chamber in Ecthelion to have every seat empty, but on this day, the Council was not in session. A single man sat within the high-ceilinged hall, parchment and maps detailed with important matters of state spread out along the table before him. There were no men on the Council who knew quite as much as Nardur did about these affairs, and none of them would be so cunning. He was well-known among the people though not well-liked; those positions were held by the two other major powers within the Council, Noldore and Dintîr. Many of the others on the Council rallied behind the remarks made by these three. They were the most knowledgeable, even with Dintîr being one of the youngest among their number.

Nardur sighed and rested his joined hands against his goateed chin, staring at the familiar map that was browning with age. The map was of the Reunited Kingdom's borders, stretching nearly all around the known world. They were a large nation now, though as far as Nardur was concerned they should be even larger. The King had granted the Rohirrim and of course, the little Halflings, all of their lands. Eriador _should_ have been included within Gondor as it was under its protection, but Nardur shook his head. No use crying over spilled ale, he supposed, and besides, no one would hear any talk about 'Frodo of the Nine Fingers, and the Halflings whose bravery helped save Gondor.'

Nardur's favorite types of people did not extend to child-like midgets and horse-lovers, nor to rangers, dwarves, and elves. He preferred the everyday Gondorians, straight-forward with nothing to hide—this made them easier to read. He supposed this was the reason why he had originally hoped for Boromir, son of Denethor, to be their new King. When Elessar arrived, he was suspicious, but wanted to believe in him. Now of course, he knew Gondor could have no greater King, though the man was a bit too prone to peace for his taste; not everything could be decided by a discussion, or open arms, or drinks all around.

There was nothing wrong with a little war now and again. The Reunited Kingdom had been in a precarious state of blissful peace for ten years since Elessar had taken the throne. Their people were living in quiet, their armies were rebuilding, and they were making allies with all sorts of surrounding peoples…this was Elessar's legacy. It was a bit grating on his nerves; would those nations eventually rebuild their armies, causing a stir themselves? Better in Nardur's mind to do away with them now. Besides, a little chaos mixed things up now and again, but only when that chaos had a purpose. The chaos before the wedding of Prince Legolas had been undesired and a detriment to what he thought was the natural state of the universe.

"It should _not_ have happened," he muttered to himself, moving several papers so he could see another map, this one of Ithilien. The near-death of the Queen removed any hope in his heart for an heir to the Gondorian throne. The attack from the Mirkwood Elves had left her barren—four years later and yet she still remained without a child? Impossible! Elrond's daughter was the source, the keystone of everything that was wrong with the Royal Family. The King desperately loved her, but Nardur's feelings were so different. It was not that he hated her—the Reunited Kingdom needed the King to produce an heir, and his barren elf-wife, though in a lineage great all her own, would not suffice. King Elessar _must_ think of the future: Gondor and Arnor would fall into _ruin_ without a son to take up his mantle.

 _Never…in all my long years and into the future, I will_ _ **not**_ _see Gondor fall into decay again. Over my dead body!_ He crumpled the map beneath his fist. _I think the Queen is good for Gondor, and the people love her, but that is not enough! She must be able to give him a son; she is useless otherwise, no matter how much good she has done._

And what about her, at any rate? The Healers he had spoken to in secret had told him that it was entirely possible that after a poisoning such as hers, a miscarriage such as hers, both could destroy a woman's fertility forever, thereby inhibiting her from ever producing a child. Talf had been the main Healer he had spoken to, but told him to keep their conversation in strict confidence—he did not need other members of the Council getting word about his inquiries. Nardur knew, whether the man liked it or not, the King would have to do something about this very serious problem.

Nardur heard the step of boot heels on the stone floor and released his clenched grip on the map before him. Rubbing his lower jaw, he lifted his head and waited as a Gondorian soldier entered the council chamber. Named for the city of Gondor he had been born to, Ethring wore no armor, but a leather tunic and breeches dressed for training. The younger fair-haired man bowed his head to Nardur as he entered, and he raised an eyebrow in reply when he noticed parchment in the soldier's hand.

"Your eyes miss nothing, councilman," he said, coming closer. "I have come with some news."

"Ever my helper, Ethring," Nardur said with a smile. "I thank you for that service. What is the news and where from? Are the King and Queen to return to Minas Tirith? Have negotiations ceased?"

Ethring nodded. "Yes, the first is a message from the southern kingdom, from the King and the Prince of Dol Amroth. Their negotiations have concluded favorably," he added after handing Nardur the letter, "with the Haradrim holding some of their land and Gondor gaining some trade agreements. They will be traveling soon, and expect to arrive at the end of July."

Nardur rubbed his forehead before making a judgment. "Ethring, no Steward in the past would ever have allowed those fiends of the Haradrim to keep their land. Though these trade agreements look _very_ promising."

"King Elessar does things very differently than Lord Denethor. Why fight another war when it is unnecessary? Little bloodshed is good, and the men who fought for Sauron during the War were destroyed already; why punish a younger generation for the sins of their fathers?"

Nardur laughed and patted the empty seat next to him. "Sit down, Ethring. You're good for my soul." He knew quite well, as he had known Ethring for many years, that the man was thinking of his own father who had perished in the attempt to retake Osgiliath during the War. One of the most foolish declarations by the Steward; everyone involved had perished except Faramir, though even he had been sorely hurt. "You must understand that sometimes, bloodshed accomplishes an end…the majority of them noble causes. An important cause," he said smiling, "is not necessarily a good cause."

"You have said before." The younger man took the offered seat.

"Yes, but think, Ethring, what is the purpose for giving the Haradrim their land? Will they not simply grow strong again and we shall have to fight them eventually? The King concerns himself with here, now, and peace…I concern myself with the future."

"I highly doubt that the King—"

"Would leave the borders unguarded? Of course not! He is far too intelligent for that! Besides, Imrahil would hardly allow it; they are so close to one another." He sighed. "No, the issue, once more, lies with the fact that the King is far too trusting."

Ethring laughed himself. "I do not think he would be alive today if he were _too_ trusting."

"He is a great judge of men, so we know that he expects the Haradrim to keep their word. Generally, he thinks too highly of people keeping their word. The world is not as honorable as he is."

"You are a cynic, Nardur," Ethring stated, snorting. "All the men in Middle-Earth are out to conquer Gondor." The words were not necessarily mocking, but they were close. Rolling his eyes, he sighed, "We are at _peace_ , and my fellow soldiers are delighted."

"The way of a councilman, and that of a King, must be to _anticipate_ when things will go wrong. It is a way of life and must be practiced." He tapped the top map with a forefinger. "We shall have to increase our strength in the southwest to remain protected from the possibility of an attack. Already, we are hearing strange reports from the North near the Greenwood as well. Should these reports continue, we could be eventually looking at troops on both fronts."

"More tours of duty," Ethring said. "Some of my comrades would be more than happy to see new lands with little action."

"Most of the soldiers we have right now are not as seasoned as you, Ethring. Ten years ago you were thirty years old, the important position of a guard in Osgiliath. Then you had seen next-to-nothing, now, you have seen much and understand the ways of war and the world. These men do not know the heat of battle or the terror of losing a comrade; war for them would be a horrifying experience, though sometimes necessary. They look forward to tours away, but hope to experience nothing."

"If the King has his way there will be nothing," added Ethring. "For my part, I hope he is right."

"So, what is the other parchment we have received?"

"An Elvish messenger from Ithilien arrived several days ago with a letter for the Queen. I only learned of it today, or I might have reported it to you more promptly. If I were to guess," he stated, holding it out to Nardur, "I would say it is from the Lady Enguina herself."

Nardur raised an eyebrow, looking at the parchment. "It is not sealed very well." He tapped the edge of it against the granite table. "Is there any particular reason you think I should read this?"

Ethring laughed, but shrugged. "I know that you enjoy knowing what is happening before anyone else knows about it. I was thinking you would like to see it. The Queen would be none the wiser if you were to read it before her."

"We have no reason to hold suspicion over the Ithilien Elves," Nardur commented, still resting the edge against the table. "The Prince has given no cause. They are a peaceful sort; that much I have gathered from those who have visited."

Ethring gave him a sly smile. "I agree with you, my Lord." He extended his hand. "I shall have that back then and I will return it to its appropriate place."

Nardur tugged the parchment back from him and popped the wax seal the rest of the way. "I did not say I was not going to read it. This letter could be important; I wager. Let us find out."

Ethring was quiet as the councilman perused the letter, tapping his fingers along the table. He was nothing if not interested in the news. One of the benefits to being an associate of Nardur was the amount of secrets he was privy to; he kept them all to himself of course and shared nothing with his wife, but he enjoyed knowing more than the other men of his station. He watched as the vein in Nardur's throat began to pulse visibly and he began to skim rapidly, his eyes sweeping back and forth across the beautiful Elvish script.

"Must be intriguing," Ethring teased, and Nardur made no move except to continue to read, his eyes narrowing. The expressions on his face were difficult to read even for someone who knew him quite well. "Nardur, what has happened? Is the letter from the Lady Enguina?"

He looked up and there was disgust and disappointment in his face. "Ethring," he said, his voice low, "are you certain that no one else has seen this message?"

The man nodded. "I am certain. What is the matter?" Nardur dropped the letter on the table and stood, anger now crossing his face. "Nardur, tell me honestly, are we soon to be under attack? What is—"

"No, nothing of that sort," he snapped, slamming his hand down onto the stone. "Damn it! It is utterly ridiculous! It should not _be_ ; it should not be endured!"

Ethring sat back in the chair and set his feet on the end of the table. "Some letter."

Nardur reached over and shoved his legs down. "Stop being so blithe! This is nothing to jest about!" Ethring raised an eyebrow at him, looking a bit cross.

"No need to be irritable, Nardur."

"Then do not act like a fool!" he snarled.

"Tell me what it says, and perhaps I will take you more seriously. Who has gone missing now?"

"No one has gone _missing_ , rather, someone is appearing!" He set both hands down upon the table and glared at Ethring. "The Lady Enguina is with child."

Ethring picked it up and glanced at the page where Nardur had been reading. "That _is_ news," he muttered, just as surprised as Nardur. "There is no doubt that the purpose of her letter is to report the happy event."

"It should be _our_ happy event, not theirs!"

"Nearly five months along, she says," he stated, skimming along the page. He glanced up at Nardur. "Have you not said that Elves have difficulty—"

"Conceiving?" finished an exasperated Nardur. " _Yes_. Explain to me this: how can an elf who has been married only little more than three years and who has not known a man before the Prince, be walking around carrying a child? While we, sitting here in _Gondor_ , have been watching and waiting and hoping for over ten years for our Elvish Queen to conceive? We _know_ ," he said rather nastily, "that she regularly attempts procreation with her husband. So why is it that we are still waiting?"

"Well…" began Ethring, assuming wrongly that Nardur expected a response, "I think—"

"We are waiting because she is _barren_ ," he supplied himself. "She is never _going_ to have a child! Her woefully unfilled womb is going to remain that way, and Gondor will be lost."

Ethring flinched at his words. "Nardur, if she _is_ barren, it would be from the miscarriage. We know she was pregnant before the attack—"

"What matters is _now_ , Ethring," Nardur said, looking full into the man's face. "What difference does it make if she _was_ pregnant? She is not now! Gondor needs an heir! _Gondor must have an heir!_ "

He held up a hand, trying to placate him. "Gondor _will_ , Nardur. Calm—"

"I will _not_ be calm. _When_ , Ethring? We have waited long enough!"

"These things take time," Ethring continued. "They are both still young yet. Perhaps they—"

"Need more time?" Nardur mocked him, scoffing. "Let me make this clear for you, Ethring, if it is not: if Gondor has no heir, there will be no future. King Elessar can do all the good he wants, spread all the peace he wants, sow all the seeds of joy he wants, but when he dies it will all amount to nothing, and Minas Tirith will once again fall into decay. Do you not see how important this is? _Everything_ rests upon it! Now, what King Elessar does not want to hear is what he needs to do about this situation, and he must do _something._ Do you not remember when Vändir was on the Council several years ago and brought that lovely girl from Dol Amroth to be his paramour to be sure there would be an heir?"

Ethring burst out laughing, perhaps a bit out of place but the memory amused him. "Yes! I very clearly remember what a disaster that was, and how Lord Faramir entered and hit him in the face so hard he fell out of his chair—directly in the middle of the Council meeting!" He laughed again, shaking his head. "Whatever happened to that fellow?"

"He is around, simply not on the Council," stated Nardur with irritation. "What Elessar does not choose to admit is that Vändir had the correct idea, though he went about it a bit absurdly; he was not well-planned. What the King needs is a mistress, which he will not take, or another wife, which would be difficult considering the one he has is nearly immortal."

"Nardur, do you not think that you are overreacting even a little? When Elessar dies eventually, someone will be able to handle what he has begun. Prince Faramir is a level-headed—"

"Is Prince Faramir of the line of Kings?"

"Well, no, b—"

"Then I do not want to hear of him!" Nardur declared. "Ethring, if anyone could have reunited the Kingdoms and kept them in peace, do you not think it would have been done _long_ before either one of us were ever born? Not simply 'anyone' can do it. Gondor _must_ have an heir; she must be protected from a world where a King on her throne would not exist. It cannot happen again…ever." He stared hard into the man's eyes. "Ethring, I would do anything within my power to ensure that Gondor has an heir. I would even do what Vändir did, just to be sure. Love and devotion, though valuable and admirable, are not as important as lineage; even the Queen, when brought to her senses, would see that. Elessar must have an heir. I would do whatever must be done, to protect Gondor, to keep her safe."

The two of them stared at each other, Nardur's words between them, almost as though both of them wondered if they were true, serious. Finally, Ethring nodded slowly. "I agree with you, Nardur, but how exactly do you intend to control something that cannot be controlled? It is not as though you can make the Queen conceive, control the seasons of her life or cycle. You know that I will support you in whatever I can, but I cannot see how this will work."

Nardur frowned fully. "The means are not as important as the end. The most important cause is for Gondor to have an heir. I must…think…and plan…and then find a way to convince the King that the preservation of Gondor is more important than his love life. He has a duty to this Kingdom, not only to himself, not only to her. Nothing is more important than Gondor. _Nothing_."

Ethring held up an imaginary goblet. "To the glory of Gondor preserved. A good and noble cause."

"The most important cause," Nardur stated again. "When I have decided on a course of action, I will fill you in on the details. A plan is taking shape in my mind, but it may take some time to fully come to be." He glanced down at the letter still in his hand, and then crumbled it. "Messages get misplaced or lost all the time…and I am feeling spiteful." He tossed it down in front of Ethring, who picked it up. "Burn it. Unnecessary drivel."

"Yes, Nardur. You _have_ some time, you know," he offered. "The King will not return until the end of June, and perhaps by that time you will need to do nothing. Perhaps they will return and the Queen will be with child."

"That would be the best option," Nardur said dryly. "But remember, Ethring, we must always prepare for the unpredictable future. _That_ is what I must plan for."

* * *

True to their letter, King Elessar and his Queen arrived in Minas Tirith with their entourage three days before the end of July. The people of the City were delighted, not only about the prospect of peace with the Haradrim, but that they had returned; there was no doubt they were happiest when their King and Queen were among them. A great feast was planned in celebration of the continuing peace. Not only that, but it was the King and Queen's tenth anniversary of their wedding and that, in itself, was something to celebrate! Therefore, the feast would be held on Midsummer's Eve, where all would gather in such festivity as had not been seen in the years since the wedding of Prince Legolas.

In contrast to the plans of merriment and partying, Aragorn was enjoying a moment of peace within the stables as he saw an untacked Brego to his stall. They had journeyed far, and as always he made sure that his friend was well-taken care of; he and Arwen were the last to be leaving. He restrung the rope in front of the stall to remind the big horse to stay inside. Stroking the bay's forehead as he began chewing on some hay, he leaned against the horse's shoulder and watched as Arwen stood in the aisle with Asfaloth.

"Mae carnen, Brego," he said softly as she moved past, leading the grey into his stall. The horse snorted, and Aragorn laughed. "Yes, I am sure that we will be able to go riding again soon. I will not forget you down here now that we are home again. Do not fear." He patted the horse's neck and slipped out of his stall, moving down to where Arwen was speaking softly to her horse. He leaned against the edge of the wood and stared at her, lost in his thoughts, as he had been most of the day.

 _Ilúvatar, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. To think that I have been given the gift of loving this woman for most of my life, and to have been able to share my life with her for the last ten years, is inconceivable. How I cherish her! I am so grateful, so thankful for her presence in my life. What a gift you have given me. I praise you for the opportunity to celebrate, to be home, and to have a chance to be in quiet with her with no prying eyes. Yes, I have wanted that again for the last four months since that time on the shores of Dol Amroth. Thank you that we will make the time to have a personal celebration in the midst of a much more public one. How I desire to revel with_ her _!_

All day he had been like a man with an obsession; his mind had hardly ever strayed from her. His eyes practically smoldered as they had ridden home together; he could barely keep them to himself. His desire had been carrying through their bond all day; he was almost sure of it. Several times he had been caught staring at her by others. Trying to distance himself from her, he had even put others between them, but no, nothing was helping. There was absolutely nothing but loving her on his mind today, but how could he be ashamed of it? She was his wife, they had been married for nearly ten years, and yes, it was no secret that he desired her. Shame on him that today it had been public knowledge, plain for the world to see had they even thought to look!

His thoughts continued in this vein, growing more heated as he watched her, thinking of both that public and much more private celebration. When she finally raised her head to see him standing there, she blushed under his impassioned gaze. There was no doubt what he was thinking, his chin slightly lowered, his grey eyes so telling. The stance of him drew her in, and as she moved closer he extended a hand, taking hers and drawing her ever closer.

"You are nearly shouting," she murmured, but he could have no shame in the way his thoughts communicated with her. He knew it was not only words that were going to her, but feelings as well.

"I…will not ask your forgiveness. Is Asfaloth settled?" _Yes, focus on the horse, Aragorn, not where her hands are, how close she is…_

"Asfaloth is happy to be home," she said softly to him, resting a hand against his chest. The sounds of the grey contentedly chewing were behind her as she spoke.

"And are you?"

She nodded, then passed over answering the question. He felt much the same; glad to be home and yet sorry their wonderful journey was at an end. She did not want to talk about being home…so the subject returned.

"What were you thinking of so attentively, my Lord?" He glanced up at her beneath half-lidded eyes, mind yearning with desire, and she leisurely dragged the edges of her fingernails through his beard. She felt his jaw tighten.

"Do you not know?" he murmured. He knew what that would do to her, and waited for the desired response—the edge of her lower lip slipped between her teeth.

"Tell me what you were thinking."

"I was thinking of how very selfish I am."

"You?" Her words were softer now, but her nails continued in his beard. "Impossible."

"I was thinking of the celebration that is to come and that I do not care about any of it save for you. I desire to spend the twilight dancing in your arms, and then spend the evening wrapped around you in our bed granting your every desire." His voice was so low that no one would have ever overheard him, and there was no one about to anyway…and at that moment, he could not have even cared. They were completely alone.

Her hands beginning to tremble, she leaned into him, feeling the passion in his words, in her mind. "What is wrong with that?" she asked in a voice similar in pitch and tone to his. "Is there anything else you desire?"

Aragorn released her hands and wrapped his around her back so he could drag them along her tunic. "On Midsummer's Day," he murmured, "I want to disappear and think of nothing else but our love and our special reason to celebrate. I do not want to see a single other person. I desire to spend every moment with you in my arms remembering every moment of the last ten years that I have devoted to loving you." He rested his brow against hers. "And then I have a gift for you, and some old…and some new moves that I think you might take pleasure in."

 _New?_ Her voice entered his mind, and he heard her swallow and felt the heat of her against his face. He was secretly pleased to have made her look forward to it. More so it was clear, because of the passion pouring rapidly through their bond, that this situation was deteriorating as it continued. Her breaths were tight and short. "And what could I do that would bring _you_ pleasure, beloved?"

 _Oh, you are asking me that?_ "Oh…I am sure that we can think of something, my love." _This is good, right here, right now. Lean into me…press against me…come to me, Arwen…_

"You have been staring at me with those eyes all day," she whispered breathlessly, desire from him and for him flooding her mind like waves as she obeyed him. Those waves were just like those crashing on the shores of Belfalas in the tiny little inlet they had found for a brief morning rendezvous that had not nearly been long enough. Had it really been so many months since they had made love? Yes…once in the last several months due to traveling and Imrahil and—

 _Enough excuses!_

She tilted her chin up, face hot, reaching for his lips as he turned her slightly, pushing her back against the wood of Asfaloth's stall; all sense of time and place, gone. Wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, the kisses deepened as he pressed himself back against her. She almost moaned into his mouth; the sudden surge of his body against hers too much. One of his hands found her hip and her breath cut off as her skin tingled beneath his touch. Their hearts pounded together as her long fingers wound up into his hair.

 _Praise Ilúvatar! I want you…it has been too long!_

 _Oh…beloved, beloved, beloved…_

Kisses continued, prolonged and passionate. Hands moved and found familiar places. Breaths were barely taken—Aragorn's gasps, Arwen's whimpers. Unthinking now of where they were or what could possibly go on around them, Aragorn maneuvered her along the wood and half-inside Asfaloth's stall. He pressed himself against her more tightly, her back flat, and she pressed her hips back towards him, dragging her ankle up the back of his calf. He growled low in his throat and completely lost himself to his desire for her.

 _Do not do_ _ **that**_ _._

He reached down and caught her knee in his hand, raising her leg to his hip as his mouth dropped to her neck; her chin immediately lifted, giving him access to her throat. The scent of her neck made him push his body into hers and she felt his teeth beneath her ear. Her breath squeaked out of her throat; a bit too rough in too sensitive of a place but it certainly was not unpleasant. The heat of him drove her back off the wall, body arching into him. Her hand tensed on the back of his neck, trying to pull herself even closer, wrapping her leg around him, and as his teeth found her skin again, her hands tightened into his hair, her breathing loud in his ear. She bit her lip and dug her nails into the back of his scalp when he took her ear in his mouth and—

The door of the stable creaked and light flooded down the aisle.

"Hello? Where are the turtledoves?"

Their only saving grace was that Aragorn had tugged her mostly inside the stall, and that Asfaloth had the intelligence of a human being. The grey immediately shoved his head out of the stall and clattered out into the barn aisle at a trot, throwing his head.

"Hey!"

It was Dintîr's voice, but neither Aragorn nor Arwen recognized it as anything more than a voice. Aragorn tightly closed his eyes, his hand still gripping her knee; Arwen's heart dropped from the atmosphere to her toes and she bit down even harder on her lip. Frozen in time, they were hearing the clattering and shouting, and trying to come back to the world, but it was so hard being so, so _high…_

" _No, no, no,_ " Arwen whimpered aloud, still clutching him as tightly as he was clutching her, eyes rolling into her head. She could hear him breathing heavily now, his brow fell to her shoulder, his nose buried in her skin. She dropped her head back against the wall behind her, trying to regain control of her own breathing.

 _Oh…god…I have to let you go?_

 _Clatter! Bang!_ "What the _hell_ are you doing loose in the aisle, you big oaf? Get over here!"

Aragorn swore loudly, and she could feel him try and breathe through his nose. Slowly, more slowly than he should have, more slowly than time they had, he released her knee, lowering her foot to the floor. Arwen let her hands fall away from him, trying to help the situation, not prolong it, and she made a valiant effort to release the tension in her back and shoulders instead of reaching forward, snatching his tunic in her hands, and dragging him back to her lips. They fought to regain control and as he pushed away from her, she reached up a trembling hand and tenderly stroked back his hair once to straighten the mess she had made of it. She let her hand fall limp again, but did not _dare_ look into his eyes. That was impossible, and she was already ashamed at being caught this way, in such a place, with such feelings that she could hardly rein in.

"Come on, you! And stopping _pushing_ me, Brego!"

Arwen felt his fingers untuck hair that was behind her ear and pull it over before her shoulder—he must have made a mark. She lifted her hand and touched where it would have been; yes, he had. One day, she would look back on this and laugh, but as she laid her head back against the wall again, she felt an overwhelming desire to dissolve into tears. This was not the appropriate place—and they knew better!

Instead, she forced her legs to function, even with her knees trembling, as Aragorn stepped out into the barn aisle to meet Dintîr; she suddenly knew that was whose voice it was. She bent down and grabbed several handfuls of hay and tossed it up into the rack for Asfaloth. She… _might_ have been doing something like that in his stall… _possibly_. Her throat tight now, not with passion, but with restrained tears, she tried desperately to collect herself. This was the tale of their lives…it was time to remember who they were and return to the necessary facts of their life.

"Ah!" the man said upon seeing Aragorn, Brego's head nudging and shoving Dintîr in the shoulder, clearly still trying to stall him. "I had a feeling I might find you here first. Let me be one of the first to welcome you home, my King!" He pushed Brego's head back over the rope, forcing him out of his way. "Keep your head to yourself, fiend."

Brego snorted loudly, and Aragorn could see the bay was about to ram him with his forehead. " _Brego_ …" he warned, setting out his hand and the bay stamped his foot with irritation, turning aside back to his hay. He was clearly displeased that the man was unappreciative of his help, but Aragorn could hardly deal with that now.

Instead, he half-smiled at Dintîr, reaching out to take the bottom of Asfaloth's halter in hand. "Thank you, Dintîr. It is good to see you." _Though I truly despise you so much right now I might have you killed._ With his other hand, Aragorn reached out and clasped the man's arm—perhaps a bit harder than he should have. _Rein in your temper, Aragorn_.

"Why was this one out here?" Dintîr asked, and Aragorn forced a sheepish laugh.

"Forgive us about Asfaloth," he replied. "Arwen must have forgot to tie him off. She was so focused on bedding him down for the night." There was no better time to cue her entrance, and so she stepped out into the aisle to greet him, the smile on her face not _quite_ reaching her eyes. He did not notice.

"And there she is!" Dintîr exclaimed as Aragorn maneuvered around Arwen to let Asfaloth return to his stall. He was especially careful to avoid brushing up against her. "My Lady, you have only grown more beautiful in the days you have been away. Look at how you shine!" He took her hand and kissed it.

"My Lord, you are too kind," she said, but Aragorn knew that inwardly she was still trying to catch her breath. Asfaloth snorted and Aragorn patted him on the neck.

"Yes, we do," he muttered, and Asfaloth nudged him. He sighed. "No, I feel awful." Another snort, and Aragorn hit the horse in the shoulder, _hard_. "I _know_ , Asfaloth." A whinny came from Brego's stall, and Aragorn rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Thank you, Brego," he muttered, "and that is not helping…not at all."

Asfaloth sighed and Aragorn rubbed the spot he had whacked. "Wrong place, wrong time." He strung the rope across, and he could hear Dintîr speaking in the aisle behind him before he could turn.

"I hope I was not interrupting anything," Dintîr said with a smile. "I thought I might escort you both; it has been several months and I am sure you are tired from your long journey."

Arwen's silent embarrassment was plain; she could think of nothing to say. Aragorn stepped to her side and answered for her. "We are grateful for your attentiveness, Dintîr, though it is certainly unnecessary."

"No trouble at all, my Lord, let me assure you. I have heard very much of your success with the men of Harad. I also heard they were quite open to the idea of peace before the talks even began. No swordplay at all, hmm? The Council is very pleased."

"No, nothing of the sort," Aragorn replied. "Many gifts were bestowed upon Gondor, and agreements were made to benefit everyone involved. You received our letter, then, and knew we were arriving today?"

"Yes, most eloquent; Nardur shared it with the entire council. We were happy to hear of it and planned the celebration that I am sure you have already heard about, to rejoice for several reasons, not least of which is your tenth wedding anniversary." He smiled, also glancing to Arwen. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Dintîr," Arwen said softly, finally finding her voice. "We are happy to be back among our people and in our home."

"I am sure I can help catch you up on some things that have happened in the five months you have been away. I know that even the people of Gondor are excited about trade reopened with Harad. My grandparents used to say that they had some unusual herbs and spices that were very useful." He laughed.

"Tell us of any news, Dintîr," Aragorn said as the man invited them to walk with him towards the door. "Minas Tirith is clearly faring well. Has there been any contact from the Elves or Rohan? How are our friends?"

"We have heard no ill news from anyone, though no good necessarily either. There has been some talk of goings-on in the North, but nothing certain. I am sure there will be more on that in the coming week; perhaps after you have been settled and the celebration over?"

Aragorn smiled and nodded. "I hope so."

"I am sure you saw the construction continuing on Rammas Echor; the Council settled a bargain with some old friends of yours while you were away."

"The outer wall looks brilliant, but where did anyone find more of the black stone to repair it?"

"Those old friends of yours brought it."

"Old friends?" Arwen asked, confused.

"I do not know many men strong enough to carry stone like that," Aragorn added.

"The Ents brought it down from Isengard; Fangorn seemed to be fairly pleased to be rid of it. You shall have to speak with Noldore about the details of the replacing of the walls with black stone, and you can read all about it. I believe the Tower of Isengard has been empty for some time now; perhaps they tore what was left of it down. I do not honestly know, but everyone is pleased."

"It will be good for Minas Tirith," Aragorn agreed.

"We saw, too," Arwen added, "that more people are living upon the Pelennor; even more farmers returned for the spring planting."

Dintîr grinned. "Yes, that was Noldore's pride, and another major benefit for Gondor. I am certain that Noldore will have no trouble rambling on about it tomorrow at the Council."

"Dintîr," Aragorn mumbled, "you never cease to astound with your ability to bring about the best homecoming thoughts possible. That first council meeting was what I was looking forward to the most about returning to Minas Tirith."

The man chuckled at his words. "Come, I am certain you both could use some refreshment and sustenance." He smiled at Arwen. "My wife told me that I would be sleeping with the dogs if I did not come down and invite you both for dinner. If you do not come, she will not believe I have asked you." He laughed. "You have had a long day; come take some rest with us."

Aragorn finally reached over and slipped his hand into Arwen's; she squeezed it back gently. "We would be delighted, Dintîr. Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

Night was falling, and Erumar and Enguina lay on their backs in the grass staring up at the first stars forming in the sky. They were nearer to the pasture than they were to the house, and they could hear Rûnving and Lómë wandering about and eating. Their steps were slow for they were just as at peace as the two ladies lying on the ground. When Legolas and Thranduil had begun building the stable for them, they had made certain that the enclosing fence would include the stream so there would be natural water and tree-covering as well. Enguina loved to see them, on warm days or nights, wander out into the creek and splash around, spraying water on their chests and bellies, and then roll in the dirt like fiends. Brethil was the funniest, being nearly white, but they all did it.

The scent of the blossoms, the light of the stars, the slight wind in the trees, the sound of the aspen leaves quaking…all of it made Enguina sigh with delight at its beauty. She was so pleased to live in Ithilien at that moment; the only thing missing was Legolas.

Erumar smiled to herself and turned her head. "You are thinking of him again, are you not?"

"How do you always know?"

"It is that particular sigh," she replied.

She sighed again. "If I speak of Legolas now, I will probably not sleep again tonight," she admitted, and Erumar laughed at her.

"You _do_ need your rest. That is why you are here, yes? To rest."

Enguina rolled her eyes. "Thank you, _Legolas_."

"Is it not strange what men think pregnant women need? They have no idea how to handle a woman, especially one with child, and so they have all these thoughts and suggestions simply waiting on the tongue, ready to explode forth at any moment. I know Legolas has been trying to help you, but really, what you are is restless!"

It was almost as though Erumar had put her finger directly on the feeling that Enguina had been trying to understand for the past four months. "That is it _exactly_! How did you know that?"

Erumar laughed again, crossing her arms behind her head. "Enguina, I _did_ have four children."

She gasped, rolling onto her side and staring at Erumar. "Do you know that I completely forgot about them altogether? I would have already been asking you a million questions!"

Erumar glanced at her. "You _forgot_ about your nieces and nephews? Can you really be so—"

"Oh stop!" she chided her. "I really did, and I did not _mean_ to! Things have been so busy with our travelling, the building of the house, and then our discovery of the baby…you should give me a little more grace."

Erumar leaned over on her elbow and stared at her, giving her a dirty look. "Enguina, you forgot my _children_!"

Enguina giggles, looking sheepish. "Oh, you are right! Fine, be angry if you want."

She rolled her eyes and put her arms back behind her head. "I am not angry…only thinking you are a bit ridiculous is all. And restlessness is part of the deal with pregnancy; you must find a way to handle it."

"Legolas was invading my space before he left," Enguina commented thoughtfully. "It got on my nerves a bit…"

Erumar smiled. "Yes, a little annoying, but not so much so that you wanted him to leave."

"No, of course not." Enguina's hand strayed to the swelling of her lower body for the umpteenth time since that morning. Legolas would often lay his hand on her, hoping to feel the baby moving. When the two of them had said their wedding vows in Minas Tirith, she had never expected to be blessed with a child so soon. She was still amazed at times when she woke in the morning, blinking sleep from her eyes, and saw her husband lying beside her, telling her she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Since when had she become so set apart? And then their home, built with love. And now a _child_! To move from the darkness of nightmares and hopelessness into the light of living dreams and joy, from a haunted shadow to a vibrant woman, from a tortured soul to a loving wife and mother…these could only be the whispers of Ilúvatar into her life. She would have barely recognized her old life.

She smiled again, thinking of Legolas and how attentive and concerned he was. "Was Haldir like Legolas is? On you every moment, unable to leave your side?" she asked.

Enguina's innocent question, coming straight out of nowhere, hit Erumar as though a pile of stone had fallen on her chest. She should have expected it, should have planned for it, should have prepared her heart for answering any and all of the questions Enguina was bound to ask. Enguina clearly had no idea what mentioning Haldir's name was doing to her, so she tried to collect herself quickly enough to seem reasonable that she was thinking of the answer, when really she was trying to shove the pain away and just remember to breathe.

"He was not as concerned for Aelin as he was for the three that followed."

Enguina raised her eyebrows. "Really? It was so long ago; I hardly remember how he behaved back then. I hardly remember his response to your pregnancies, and they were far apart. I do remember that he was not planning on other children after the first. I do not remember if he even thought of it."

Erumar let out a breath. "No, he did not; he assumed we would only have one, as most couples do within our race. Macarion and Elentára scared him half to death; the twins were the reason he decided we would have no more children, especially as he was not there for their birth. Hrivë, as you know, was quite unplanned." She sighed. "Hrivë's birth was very hard, and it upset him."

"I remember Hrivë's better than I remember the others now. That is odd," Enguina said softly.

"No, you were there for it," Erumar replied. "You _should_ remember it the best, as you were there trying to calm him down along with my children."

"I remember…you nearly died," she added, her voice still soft. She met Erumar's eyes and noticed that there was a deep pain behind them; only then did she realize the effect her words had on her friend. "I am sorry for bringing this up."

Erumar shook her head. "Do not be. You have many questions, Enguina, and you should. I will try to answer them as honestly, as truthfully, as I can." _Even if they bring me some pain._ "When you think of them, you should ask them. Do not be afraid; I will tell you what I can."

"Thank you," she said. There was silence between them for a moment, then Enguina lifted her head again. "I…" she shook her head. "Forgive me; forget I said anything."

"What is it?"

"No, I…I was just thinking that I do not remember you ever saying that before, that Hrivë's birth upset him."

"The pregnancy upset him from the beginning," she murmured. "He was so distraught; it was so unexpected. He was…not pleased that it had happened. I understood; after what happened with the twins, he thought it would mean my death and he was nearly right. He blamed Ilúvatar for that." She frowned, but she would not meet Enguina's eyes, combing her fingers through the grass. "He absolutely did not want me having another child. I do not mean to make that sound as though he was set against it because he did not love his sons and daughter. No, he was terrified. Afterwards…he did not want…he was hesitant to…love me physically. Anything that would prevent it…" There was quiet between them for a moment, almost as though Erumar could not believe she had said the words aloud. "Forgive me…I—"

"Erumar, if you do not talk to me," Enguina said gently, "who will you talk to?"

"I should not have spoken at all," she replied, and Enguina realized it was taking everything within her friend not to turn away. She was terribly embarrassed.

"Please," she said, touching her hand, "do not be ashamed. I have no one else but you, Erumar. Can you not feel comfortable talking with me?"

"About most things," Erumar muttered. "Some things should be private."

"I…am sorry." She looked down. "Forgive me for asking such a question."

Erumar sighed. "I should be…less defensive, but…sometimes that wound is so fresh, Enguina. _I_ am the one who is sorry."

"I should have realized that talking about Haldir was not a great choice," she said ruefully. "Sometimes I ask you about your marriage because I feel as though I…I need to talk with someone about relationships and life." She sighed. "And I miss Legolas so much."

Erumar gave her a little smile. "If Arwen were here, I bet you could get her to talk about her marriage. I am sorry that I am a bit less…forthcoming."

Enguina rolled onto her back again, mindlessly rubbing her belly. "I have not heard from her, not even after I sent the message. You would think we would have received the letter by now." It actually hurt, knowing that Arwen had received the news that she was with child but had not sent a reply. Where was she? What could possibly be more important? Perhaps that was selfish, but she could not help thinking it, even for a moment.

Erumar reached over and placed her hand over Enguina's. "Are you upset?" Enguina could hear the confusion in Erumar's voice and she sighed.

"I think I am…a little. If I had received the news she had, I would have replied…in fact, I would have come to visit."

"Perhaps the message took longer to arrive than you originally thought," she offered in reply. "I do not think Arwen is slighting you—"

"No, I do not think so either," Enguina was quick to agree, wanting to believe it with all her heart. "But I am worried for her. What if something has happened in Minas Tirith and no news has reached us here?"

"Enguina—"

"Honestly, Erumar. What if something has happened and that is why she has not replied? Can you tell me that may not be true?"

Erumar frowned, not wanting to agree. "I suppose it might. But it is far more likely that the reply is late in coming. It has only been one month."

"If it was winter, I could see that, but this is the summer. The weather is beautiful for traveling! A rider would come easily here. Well, _should_ have come easily."

"She _is_ a Queen…" Her voice drifted away when Enguina gave her an ugly look. "Oh very well, that is a terrible excuse. What would you like me to say?"

Enguina suddenly grinned, and switched Erumar's hand to the bottom. "Do you feel the baby?"

Erumar grew suddenly serious, straining her senses to feel what Enguina had felt. Try with all her might, she simply could not feel the gentle fluttering as Enguina had. She sighed, "No…I simply cannot feel what is happening inside you, _outside_."

"Legolas could not either," Enguina said sadly. "I cannot describe it!"

Erumar smiled. "Like the fluttering of butterfly wings, especially in the beginning."

"Will Legolas ever feel it?" she asked.

"Of course," Erumar replied. "As the child grows, the space she has to move around will shrink, and then you will be feeling arms and legs and…well," she laughed, "just about anything. Legolas will certainly be able to feel her then. Possibly see her as well."

"Really?" Enguina said with awe.

"Sometimes, especially with the twins I would see a lump on my belly."

"That is…unbelievable."

She smiled, rubbing Enguina's stomach herself. "Yes, but true."

"So…Arwen."

Erumar rolled her eyes. "You should probably let this one go, Enguina. You cannot expect her to respond immediately, nor should she have to."

" _I_ would have," she replied stubbornly.

"Oh, _Enguina_ —"

"And you know what else?" she continued. "If we do not receive a reply or Arwen does not appear herself within the week…I may have to take action."

"Whatever does that mean?" Erumar asked, amused.

Enguina smiled back at her, but said no more about it. She laid her head back against the ground and looked back at the stars. Already, she was making plans that Erumar could never have imagined…and that Legolas would have her head for.

* * *

 _What a long, grueling day_.

Aragorn stacked his parchment together and sighed so softly the other departing councilmen would never have heard him. This had been one of the longest meetings since he had become King ten years ago. It was late, he had missed dinner, and desire for anything but his pillow had left him—which served to add fuel to his fury. Two nights now he had been home and the time that he and Arwen had begun in the stables had stayed there. No matter how badly he had desired her then, there was no way at all he could reenact that feeling. In fact, he was beginning to feel he would never get those moments back. Exhaustion from sitting all day was ridiculous, but that was where he stood. Before sweeping the parchment beneath his arm, he reached up to rub the back of his neck. If he had not been so tired, perhaps having Arwen's hands on his neck might have awakened something in him…but to no avail at this hour with the way he felt. He stood up straight and caught sight of a figure standing beside the table that he had not noticed before.

Nardur stood nearby and bowed slightly to him. "My Lord, it is good to have you home. Your absence was noted within the last few months, and the people have missed you."

Aragorn gave him a smile and a nod. "Thank you, Nardur. It is good to be home. I know congratulations are in order to you for your excellent dealings with the Ents; Rammas Echor looks astoundingly new."

"High praise," Nardur agreed, looking pleased. "I am very glad you approve. Congratulations are due to you as well—"

"Thank you. The Haradrim—"

"On your anniversary," Nardur continued, rolling over the peace they had already discussed at the council meeting. "Ten years is a long time to be so happily wed."

Aragorn nodded. "You and your wife had been—"

"Married twenty-five years, yes," he said, without sadness, "before she died in the attack on Minas Tirith." The two of them began the long walk from the hall side-by-side. "I would venture to say that we were just as happily wed. Perhaps even more so." He smiled. "We had a bit more freedom in our lives and a lot less stress."

"I daresay," Aragorn agreed, "though impending war with Mordor would cause strain in the happiest of lives."

"Indeed, though it was nothing like the last ten years of your marriage, Elessar." The man opened his mouth to speak but Nardur continued, "Two kidnapping incidents, an explosion on the fourth level, and an attack on Minas Tirith by a group of rogue elves. More stress in yours than in mine, even _with_ Mordor."

"You have painted a fairly accurate picture," Aragorn sighed, but shook his head, "yet you have only focused on the negative, Nardur. You forget the dedication of the statues, peace agreements with Harad, the two weddings which have bound Gondor and Rohan together, and the celebration of Prince Legolas's wedding as well. We have many things to be grateful for."

They came out onto the top step of Ecthelion and Nardur looked at him. "When you put it that way, it all seems fairly normal. A lot has happened in ten years. There is another way that I think my wife and I were more happily wed than you, Elessar." He waited a beat and then, "At the time of my wife's death, she and I had a nineteen year old daughter and a twenty-two year old son, both of whom were killed in the battle, as you know."

He reached up and set his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "You lost a son in these past years as well; that pain is not easily forgotten. Gondor has always and will always sympathize with that loss."

Aragorn did not quite know what to say, as unexpected as the man's words were to his heart. It had been a bit of time, nearly six months, since he had been confronted with the loss Nardur spoke of. All he could do was glance down at the hand that rested on him and tilt his head to the side in acknowledgment.

"I know it is difficult to lose a child through a miscarriage, but…you should always think and plan for the coming years. Leave the past, Elessar, and look to the future. After all, Gondor needs an heir. The people are ready to rejoice with you again; it should be soon, do you not think? Ten years is a long time for you to be without someone to carry on your lineage."

Nardur saw the mix of emotions that poured behind Aragorn's eyes; he clearly settled on his typical peaceable words. "Ilúvatar's time is not our own; we must wait on him. I thank you for your words of comfort and your hope for the future."

"I would advise you to think on it though, and make plans," Nardur offered, with a smile. "There is no better time than the present. Rely on Eru, of course, but take action, my King. No one would begrudge you a little celebrating of your own on Midsummer's Day." He lifted his hand from the King's shoulder and could nearly feel the man's discomfiture at his words. "Get a good night's rest, my Lord, in preparation for the celebration. There will be much dancing, and we all know how much the Queen enjoys that."

"Indeed," Aragorn replied softly, and Nardur could hear the confusion in his voice. Even as the man continued down the stone steps, Aragorn remained at the top of them, watching as he left. Inwardly, the King was still focused on the words. Outwardly, Nardur allowed himself just enough of a smile as to not be noticed.

 _And so begins the sowing._

* * *

Midsummer's Eve—the night was warm and beautiful. When one looked up into the sky, they could see every star if you could ignore the light from the numerous lamps that had been lit. The entire City had been called upon to celebrate in some way, and each person was. The people had every reason to rejoice: their King and Queen were among them, peace had been made, and there was joy in remembering the wedding that had taken place there so many years ago. It was the largest celebration since the wedding of Prince Legolas, and everyone—guard, councilman, and countryman alike—was taking advantage of the food, drink, and fellowship.

Upon the courtyard in the sixth level was an area cleared for dancing with a group of Gondorian minstrels nearby playing their music wildly. Aragorn stood, pint in hand, just around the outside of the floor, his eyes intent on a certain individual that he had just finished spinning around himself. There Arwen danced, as beautiful and elegant as ever; her every move flawless and precise. _Ilúvatar, she could make the most ungraceful oaf appear to know every dance._ He could not remember how many dances they had performed before he truly had to allow someone else the pleasure when he might not let her out of his arms the rest of the evening. Instead, he stood nearby, watching along with many others. There was no mistaking that the majority of their eyes fell upon her dancing there. It made him reminisce about the first time he had seen her…among the birches of Rivendell…Ilúvatar, he had loved her even then.

"Ah, Dintîr seems to be enjoying himself very much," stated a calm voice from beside him. Aragorn glanced to the side and smiled at Noldore. He had not had too much of an opportunity to speak with the man alone since his return to Minas Tirith. "Though I must say that your wife is the most graceful dancer to ever make her presence known onto this square. I cannot imagine any man would speak differently." He laughed kindly and looked into Aragorn's face. "Perhaps I see some jealousy in her lover's face, my Lord?"

"No, no," Aragorn laughed in reply. "I was simply enjoying the very great pleasure of watching my wife dance. It is as fulfilling a pleasure to dance with her as to watch her."

"And no one standing nearby with eyes would disagree," Noldore said with a nod.

"Are you enjoying the party, Noldore? I heard you were a bit under the weather while Arwen and I were away in Dol Amroth. You are well now, I hope?"

"Indeed," he replied, waving the concern away with a hand, "being old will do that. I am much better now, though I had your arrival to speed along my recovery. This party is wonderful; I hope that you, too, are enjoying it."

"I am, indeed." The two men were silent now, watching the dancing before Noldore reached over and settled his hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"Might I speak with you, Elessar?" Noldore said, his voice a bit more serious. "It will only take a moment." Aragorn nodded, and Noldore led him away from the crowd; still within sight of the dancing, but only just. "I know it has been some time since you have been home, but I wanted to give you some news that we have heard. No one at the Council has brought it to the fore yet, but it will come soon. There have been rumors coming in from the North, from the edges of Thranduil's kingdom, that there is some trouble with the Easterlings. We do not know yet if it is trouble that we will have a need to deal with."

"Perhaps they are wandering a bit too far from their homeland," Aragorn suggested. "They are a people who gave everything to Sauron's sway during the Great War."

Noldore sighed. "When has anyone who enters a land not their own simply gone away without a swift battle or a reminder that they do not belong?" He shook his head. "If it should come to blows, it may be soon. We expect messengers to return within the month; that should bring us news."

A bout of clapping cut into their conversation, and Aragorn glanced back to the floor where another man who Aragorn did not know began to dance with Arwen for the next song. He smiled to himself; she was a spirited and lovely dancer, a pleasure to observe. The man dancing with her, whoever he was, actually did himself justice this time, which Aragorn was glad for. A hand fell on Noldore's arm, and it caught Aragorn's eye. He looked over to see Noldore's wife, and he gave her a welcoming smile.

"Lady Moraen," Aragorn acknowledged, bowing his head to her, "it is good to see you." Noldore's wife was grey-haired but she had lost none of her beauty. She was short for a Gondorian woman, and yet she was plump and amusing, her round face giving off a warm welcome to all.

"My King Elessar," she said, bowing her head as well, "excuse me for interrupting you both, but my husband has been standing about in a stupid manner for far too long."

"In a stupid—?" began Noldore, laughing at her words. "See here, my good wife—"

"It is time to _dance_ , Noldore!" she insisted. "The Lady knows it, and has been dancing half the evening, and _you_ have been here long enough without standing up with me for a dance."

Aragorn chuckled softly. "Noldore, I would not press her."

"See?" she added, looping her arm through his. "At least the King knows what he is about."

"Yes, yes, dance we shall," Noldore replied, laying a hand on his wife's arm. "Excuse us, Elessar."

"Of course," he said, directing his hand to the dancers, "this is a party, after all."

"Yes, congratulations on ten years," Moraen laughed, "let us hope you survive the next forty. Sometimes, marriage appears interminable." The three of them laughed as Noldore shook his head. "Though you do not often appear that way."

"To be happy in marriage is a gift," added Noldore. "Never be less than thankful for it."

"I bless Ilúvatar's name every moment I have."

"Good man," Moraen said, and then she reached out and caught Aragorn's arm before turning to the floor. "Oh, and Elessar, I heard that you and the Evenstar were for dinner at Dintîr's home the other evening. Do not think that you will escape so easily and not be had at our table as well."

Aragorn laughed. "Thank you for your hospitality. Arwen and I will be sure not to miss it."

"Do not cross her," said Noldore with raised eyebrows. "You had better not forget."

"Off with you both; enjoy the dancing." He took a drink of good ale as Noldore and his wife moved away and happened to see his good friend the stone mason, Cirgon. He had not spoken to him in many months and he was just about to step in that direction when a man crossed across his path. He paused in surprise as the man nodded to him.

"Lovely evening for a party, isn't it, Elessar?"

Vändir. The memory of the man assaulted Aragorn's mind. The last time he had seen him, they had simply nodded to each other; that was nearly a year ago now; before that…he had been falling onto the floor in the middle of a Council meeting. There was no love between them at all. Though Aragorn tried not to hate the man, only the things he had done, it was so difficult when he had nearly destroyed their marriage. He found he could hardly stomach looking him. However, being as good a man as possible, he acknowledged the other with a nod.

"Indeed," he said quietly, lifting his mug to indicate the sky, "you can see every star tonight." He did not want to ask, the Anduin would freeze completely before he would have cared about his response, but he had been raised better. "How are you enjoying it, Vändir?"

"There's good food and drink to be found here." The man glanced over his shoulder and gave a little nod toward the floor where men and women were clapping with the lively music. "I see that your Queen is little changed," he added, his critical eyes sweeping over her form as she laughed, being spun by her partner.

A beat. Aragorn breathed out through his nose, and physically breathed in patience. "No," he said, "but I feel as though you are wishing me to ask you in what way you meant that, however I will feel about the reply." His tone held a warning of wrath, a tone that meant he was well-aware of disrespect within the comment the man had made. It would have made the usual sort of disrespectful man back down, but drink can slow the mind.

"I meant change in the physical sense."

Looking back on that moment later, Aragorn should have known exactly what was about to transpire. Perhaps it was that he had been hoping for better; perhaps it was that he was in the wrong frame of mind; perhaps it was that he had been drinking ale himself. Whatever the reason, his mind drew a blank and he stared with confusion, though sure there was a jab at Arwen within the words. "What do you—"

"Let me be clearer," Vändir sneered, crossing his arms and stepping closer to Aragorn. "You were away for nearly six months, couldn't you find time to bed her?"

Aragorn's eyes darkened with anger; any sober man would have taken a step back from the expression on his face. "How _dare_ —"

"I _dare_ because the Reunited Kingdom is wondering when the heir to your throne is going to arrive. All of Minas Tirith's eyes are resting on you and the Queen—"

" _Stop_ —"

"Come now, Elessar!" Vändir pressed, refusing to back down. "We were all grievously distraught after the death of your son, and everyone's _longing_ for a child. This is your tenth anniversary! _Ten years_ and still no children? There comes a time when everyone must assume the worst."

" _ **Stop**_ _, I said,_ " Aragorn snapped, and his jaw went tight with anger as he rotated away, his left hand forming a fist, and the right nearly cracking the mug within it. But Vändir reached out and grabbed Aragorn's arm and turned him back, glaring into his face.

"Your wife is _barren_ ," he accused. "Gildion was right when he told you both that she was, and you still haven't listened! Gondor _must_ have an heir! _Forget her_ and focus on the future of G—"

" _ **Enough!**_ " Aragorn snarled. Dropping his mug, he yanked his arm from Vändir and turned fully towards him, his face so close he could have bitten the man as he towered over him. There had to be onlookers now; their raised voices would have drawn attention. His hands were itching for the man's throat; instead, he curled them into fists. He wanted to beat him, thrash him within an inch of his life, and then hang him in the square for the entire world to see.

With Ilúvatar-given strength, he withdrew his fury and breathed…but he did not loosen his fists. This was already enough of a public display, but the words had to be spoken, they _had_ to be. No longer would he stand silently by and listen to her honor be assaulted. _No_ …it would not stand. Nostrils flaring, his eyes stormy, his voice a low growl now, " _If you_ _ **ever**_ _publically slander my wife again in such a manner, I will have you thrown in the stocks. Do you understand me?_ "

"I… _understand_ ," Vändir spat. Aragorn rocked back, standing upright, but Vändir leaned towards him with his lip curling. "Know this, _Elessar_ : I may be the only one to speak out loud about it to you, but everyone _else_ is thinking it. You wait; mark my words: this festering discontent with your Queen will only increase." With those words, and before Aragorn could even respond, Vändir had turned upon his heel and walked away.

Aragorn fought with his immediate desire to reach down, snatch his mug off the ground, and fling it so hard at Vändir's head that it went right through him—a fleeting desire that left him more drained than he had felt in a long time. He stared flaming holes into the man's back as he began to disappear into the crowd, leaving the several onlookers who had heard at least a bit of the exchange staring worriedly at him.

"Your pint, my Lord," offered a voice nearby, "you must have dropped it." Aragorn turned his head, hardly able to think about anything but the man for whom he felt such rage. His eyes met Nardur's as he uncurled his fist and reached for the mug. He needed to say something, but he could not find his voice. "Enjoying the celebration?"

Aragorn simply looked at him. "I was," he finally said. "Forgive me, Nardur, for my rudeness. I think it is time I found my dancing partner again."

"Without a doubt, Elessar," he replied. "I believe she is just there; she finished her last. Be quick to catch her before she is stolen again by another. Perhaps you can abscond early with her as well." It was a tease, but the man had been through enough tonight.

Aragorn's blink was lengthy, a feeling of longsuffering coming along with the sigh he released. _Legolas, mellon nîn, where are you when I need you?_ "Have a good evening, Nardur."

"And you, my Lord." Aragorn stepped away from him, making his way towards the dancers. Nardur watched him go and slyly muttered to himself, "Must have hit a nerve."

He turned away himself and walked from the dancing couples and the music to the overly loud and crowded tables full of food and numerous Gondorians where he would never be overheard. Much to his happiness, he noticed Ethring seated at one of the tables with his wife. Luckily, the woman rose and moved to speak with friends a moment before he arrived, so he was easily able to stop for a brief chat.

Ethring held out a half-pint to him. "Come and sit with us, Nardur; you are quite welcome."

"Thank you, Ethring, though not long," he replied as he took a seat and the offered drink. "I witnessed the most marvelous interaction just moments ago, and it has helped me focus on how we shall go about our plans for Gondor. I wanted to share that interaction with you. I was standing nearby watching the dancing when I heard some interestingly raised voices—the King's and _Vändir_. Can you believe it?"

Ethring stared at Nardur in surprise. "That mad dolt we were speaking of just a few days ago?"

"The very same. Vändir was slandering the Queen, which is not out of the ordinary, as he has been doing it quietly the last several years. What I noticed was how short the King's temper was with the remarks. His is usually collected and will walk away or ignore such remarks—not this time. He told the man he was going to throw him in the stocks if he said another word against her. Vändir warned him that there were many others who were having thoughts about the Queen." His eyes gleamed as he spoke. "Ethring, this is perfect! It is setting the stage for the plans I am beginning to make!"

"I do not see how," Ethring said, confused, "but I suppose if you are satisfied, I will be pleased as well. I do not see how someone speaking badly of her can—"

"Ah, Ethring, that is the key! It will now be set in motion in the back of his mind. He will be unable to stop thinking of it, and it shall prey upon him: perhaps the rumors are true, perhaps he should talk with her about another way to have a child; oh, the possibilities." He grinned. "Now, I do have a favor to ask, though this will not take place over the next two nights."

"Will this service I am about to agree to help keep Gondor alive?"

"Would I ask for anything less?" Nardur asked, leaning towards him. "I would like you to reprise your place at that _particular_ tower window."

Ethring rolled his eyes. " _That_ one? It has been quite some time, Nardur."

"Regular efforts must be maintained, Ethring," Nardur said firmly. "Clearly, they have not given up hope, otherwise, he would not have been so angry tonight. No, he still believes that there can be the possibility of a child. That means encouraging all the love-making I can within as little time as I can. If there is the slightest chance that she might become with child, we need to take it. Until this thought is no longer viable, we must use it."

"And so I must become a _tiraenhen_ for Gondor," sighed Ethring. "Well, if I must…I must."

"Do not pretend you do not secretly enjoy it."

Ethring glared at him indignantly, turning red in the face. "Nardur, I am a man in wedlock!"

It was Nardur's turn to roll his eyes. "Whatever you must say to feel better about the situation, by all means. At any rate, I have another duty for you, as I cannot wander the City quite as easily as a guard to be seen in strange places."

"Strange—? What do you mean?"

"I need you to travel to one of the lesser-known apothecary shops on one of the lower levels. It needs to be a place where, if someone sees you, they will not speak of it."

"An apothecary?" Ethring asked quizzically.

"I need you to look for some rather…interesting herbs. I have been reading a lot about some powders that may help the cause. I will tell you exactly what, but…it is best not to mention such things aloud and in public, even if no one is listening."

"Herbs that will…do what, exactly?"

Nardur smiled. "I have a strategy that I think may help the situation the King and Queen may find themselves in. I think that the King may have little knowledge of these herbs as well, which will be helpful. I will say no more about it now, and I will let you begin your watching in a few days' time." He gave a little smirk as he stroked his perfectly clipped beard. "We can be sure, as it is their anniversary, that he will go home to her tonight, probably tomorrow as well. I can only hope that Vändir's words produce the desired result of spurring them on, not making him spiteful."

Ethring frowned. "From what I have seen, the King and Queen want a child as much as we do. I doubt it would make him stay away from his wife. No, you will have your result, Nardur. He will not be able to stop thinking about the man's words. If you prod him as well, perhaps we shall all get what we want." He shook his head slowly. "Though I still do not see how it is going to happen. No one but Ilúvatar controls the time of—"

"Lord Nardur! How nice to see you!" exclaimed Ethring's wife, and Nardur smiled at her. She must have come out of the crowd, and now she lay her hand on her husband's back.

"Good evening," he replied, and stood. "I must be on my way, but I will return your husband to you. And Ethring, you let _me_ worry about those things. We will speak again soon. Enjoy the rest of the evening."

"And you, Nardur."


	4. Chapter 4

The celebration, of course, lasted long into the night. When the bells were tolling at two, both Aragorn and Arwen agreed that they had stayed long enough. So they walked one another home to the King's House quietly; it was a warm summer night, and in the darkness on the seventh level of Minas Tirith, Aragorn had been right about the stars. Tonight, they shone in all their beauty. He could not help but study her in the light of the moon and stars, she his Evenstar, his nightingale. As they walked along, she was singing softly a song of Imladris, heedless of who heard her.

 _In the darkness of the night_

 _Small and shining in our sight_

 _Throughout the heavens bright_

 _Stars shine down their peaceful light_

 _Doth they shine for me?_

 _Doth they shine for you?_

 _Doth they shine to teach us?_

 _Doth they shine to worship him_

 _Who made them for his pleasure?_

 _Peace, the gift of serenity_

 _Faith, the gift of Ilúvatar_

 _Hope, the gift of trust_

 _Love, the greatest gift of all_

 _In the darkness of the night_

 _Small and shining in our sight_

 _Throughout the heavens bright_

 _Stars shine down their peaceful light_

Aragorn felt his heart give out to the peace of her song; since before they had left the celebration, the weight of Vändir's words had been upon him. He did not know if she knew that something was weighing on him, but he was trying not to let it ruin his mood. He had _so_ enjoyed holding her in his arms tonight and dancing with her for an hour at a time. She was so beautiful, so full of joy, so full of celebration, and he had wanted to share that with her…but _only_ her. The rest of those people who…who _judged_ her so harshly, judged them _both_ …could go to the depths of Morgoth for all he cared. Tonight, _today,_ was not about _them_. His teeth clenched together.

As always, the words, _the words_! They crushed his heart, flooded him with fury! He always forced them away, tried not to think of them! He had been determined they would not spoil the evening if he did not let them. _Mellon nîn, I wish you were here with me now. I could terribly use a compassionate ear._ He tried to struggle on, trying to let the words brush off him as he would any other sort of dirt, but they clung to him like the stench of death, worming into his mind.

Did the arrogant fool not know? Could the impossible dolt not see? The two of them wanted a babe more than the next Gondorian wished for them to conceive! It was not hard to come to the same conclusion as Vändir, that the whole of Minas Tirith was thinking of another child and when it would come. Aragorn could see it, plain as day, on the faces of many of those at the celebration tonight, could read it within their thoughts. With his excellent hearing he caught snatches of their conversations, the wives of the councilmen discussing their excitement of when a child would be born; not criticizing, but questioning. He had worried that _Arwen_ would hear them, but she gave no sign. In a way, he was glad.

Hand-in-hand, they walked up the front steps to the King's House and he opened the door for her, watching her go inside before him. As he watched, as he waited, he felt as though the walls of the House were crushing him, pressing the air out of his lungs. Yet it was not the walls of the _House_ , it was the walls of Minas Tirith. He had been back _three days_ , and already he felt as though he could not be here another moment— _not one more moment_.

Before the door came closed behind him, he reached out and caught her hand, spinning her back gently but firmly to his chest. He let go of her hand and found his arms enfolding her against him, her hands resting on his shoulders, her face tilted to look up into his eyes. She saw something in them, something that troubled her; this was not the passionate Aragorn of the stable, and this was not the joyful Aragorn that had spun her about in time to the music.

"Beloved," she began, but he spoke instead of allowing her to finish.

"Come away with me," he said urgently, his voice low, beseeching her. "Now, Arwen… _please_."

Whatever she had expected, that request was not it. His arms were tight around her, clinging to her like a lifeline, as though he could not lose her. Her eyes darted back and forth between his, as if she were trying to read him like parchment. He waited; he would say no more… _could_ say no more. His throat was tight with the thought of confinement within this place with these people who would never understand them, would never understand their love. If she refused…what would he do?

Arwen could feel his heart pounding with his sudden anxiety. Within her head his mind was a jumble of confusion, and there was a great sense of suffocation, a huge weight settling over him. She wanted desperately to know what was pressing in on him, but she knew that he would not say—not now. Instead, she moved her hand to the center of his chest, laying it across his heart.

She raised her left hand and stroked along his face, smoothing the edges of his hair back. _Your mind is racing…shhh…everything is going to be all right._ His eyes closed as she did it again, and she felt him release some of his anxiety, his scattered thoughts coming back together. "Where are we going?" she asked softly. "Who are we going to tell?"

So practical she was when all he wanted to do was run, _run_ , _**run.**_ "Anywhere…anywhere but here," he replied almost breathless. "Someone. _Anyone_. Mennev, Talf, Haneth—"

He stopped as she brushed a thumb over his lips. "All right," she whispered, and he lowered his brow to press it against hers. _Take peace, beloved._ She caressed him with her mind. The moment centered him even more. "I can ride comfortably in this," she told him. "We do not have to go inside."

She felt him lean away and took his hand as they came away from her back. Stepping back out onto the porch, she let him close the door behind him and then tugged him back the way they had come. Then they were gone.

* * *

It was not near dawn and the mountain glade was dark, especially under the boughs of the ash tree they sat under. Brego and Asfaloth were roaming far afield, happy and content, and the soothing stream was flowing nearby. This was the place Aragorn had found months ago that he had said they would go at some point—they had simply never had a chance to fulfill that promise. Now they had, laying beneath the stars. Just the two of them. Of course, they were not completely alone. There were two guards outside of their little private sanctuary that were going to stay the night...and probably most of the day tomorrow. They were almost never _completely_ alone anymore.

She could feel Aragorn, more at peace, more centered; the ride, the quiet of the night, her constant caress, had helped. His breaths were slow; his heart beat had returned to the one she measured her days by. He sat with his back against the tree, Arwen in his arms, her legs curled beneath her. If she closed her eyes and drew from memory, she could even smell the fresh scent of the mallorns. She smiled, her head resting against his shoulder. She almost did not want to break the silence with her thoughts.

"Do you remember Lórien?"

He set his cheek into her hair. "How could I ever forget? The starlight, the moonlight shining on the diadems in your raven hair. Walking on that fair hill, golden elanor and white nephredil all around your beautiful feet." He traced one hand down her calf and across her foot, cupping his hand around her toes. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. "You danced there, that night—"

" _We_ danced," she amended, "to music you sang."

"We spoke of the future and of our love." He breathed in the scent of her hair.

"You asked me to wed you, praise Ilúvatar."

He smiled. "I could never forget that."

Running her fingers through his hair, she whispered, "May I wish you happiness first?"

He sighed softly. "Please."

"Happy Anniversary, beloved."

"Oh, Ilúvatar, Father," he whispered, and she closed her eyes, "we thank you for every moment of our love, for the time that we have spent together, for the blessings that you have made in and through us. You brought us together and we honor you with our lives and our love. There is nothing on this earth that can separate us now, not even death."

"Ilúvatar," she said, stroking her fingers through his hair again, "being with Aragorn is such a gift, such a blessing. Please, on this morning of the memory of our pledge, grant us a renewal of strength and your peace. Help us to enjoy one another," she felt his arm tighten around her, his other hand still on her foot, "and trust in the future you have planned for us. Bless us with your joy, and watch over us as we enjoy this day you have made."

"Watch over us, especially my beloved, and keep us in the shelter of your wings. It is in your name that we ask all of these things. Amen." He kissed the top of her head and he felt her curling strands of his hair around her fingers.

"I have been waiting to be alone with you all night long. I have been waiting to lay my head upon your shoulder and just…breathe." She felt him smile and so did she. "I did enjoy nearly every moment of the celebration, especially dancing with you…one of the high points of the evening."

"We danced more tonight," he added, "than we have ever danced before." He knew that she could not see him, but he studied the top of her head anyway. "I simply wanted you in my arms. I did not want to let go." His voice was soft.

"I…wish there had been others to help us celebrate," Arwen mentioned, and he pondered her words for a moment, thinking that the entire City was feasting and drinking below them.

He finally put it together. "You are speaking of Enguina and Legolas…Faramir, Éowyn, the children…perhaps even Gimli and Thranduil…Erumar…"

"I miss them," she said softly. "I have thought about her, about him, so often and yet we have had no word from them in so long."

"We spent so long together, it is difficult to be apart," Aragorn admitted. "I…miss having someone to talk to who knows me, understands me, almost as well as you."

"And who is not a woman." She felt his laugh through his throat rather than hearing it. "I miss Enguina as well. I wish she were here; I long to hear about Ithilien and how they are doing, to see their home through her eyes…and how incandescently happy she is with Legolas as her husband. They have been gone for nearly—"

"Three years, one month, three weeks, two days, and…" he glanced around for the moon, "roughly fourteen hours, give or take a few minutes."

"From the wedding, you mean," she said, unsurprised he knew exactly how long. He missed Legolas as she missed Enguina. "We should have come home by way of Ithilien; I feel as though it has been too long since we have heard…as though we should have _already_ heard. I shall have to write her." Her stomach dropped, and she lowered a hand to it, startled; that was a feeling saved for the middle of the night after a strange dream. Though, she had not spoken about them to Aragorn in quite some time. "I have been…feeling strange…about them…"

"Them?" he asked, lifting his head. Something felt off with her, and he sat up a bit more so he could see her face. "Arwen?"

"I do not know exactly who. It is only a feeling…like the one in my chest as I waited all those years ago for you to return to Imladris. I do not know if it… _surrounds_ them, is a sense of them, or is something that is coming."

"What is it you feel?" He was concerned now; he would never ignore her senses. Too much could she feel and predict, and her visions were never wrong. "A vision?"

"No," she sighed, closing her eyes, and reached down into that place inside herself where she thought of them. It startled her that now she was thinking of it, there was only one word she could use to describe the feeling. "It is… _dread_. Dread that is coming or that surrounds them."

 _Dread?_ His worry increased. "I will send out messengers as soon as we return."

"I…" she hesitated. "Do you not think we would know if they were in danger?"

Aragorn took pause. "Then why dread? Perhaps you are simply worried as we have not heard from them in so long?"

She probably should have been more worried, but instead, Arwen turned her head and gave him a wry smile. "Trust me, I know dread when I experience it; I felt it for many years."

"That," he teased, "was because your father made that impression on you. You were not feeling your own dread; it was his."

She laughed aloud. "And what did my father dread?"

"Me." He laughed with her, and she tucked her hand around the back of his neck as he tilted his head to press his lips to hers. "Your father," he murmured into her mouth, "dreaded that I would win your heart, and take you away."

"It was already won long before he would have even thought to dread it," she replied, kissing him again. "But you will-"

"Yes, I will send a messenger in the morn…well, in the evening…or whenever we return."

"I doubt anyone plans for us to return too soon," she murmured, thinking of the two guards that had followed them. They were not too far from this hidden place. "I know I do not."

Aragorn looked into her eyes, resting his forehead against hers. _I doubt they do, Arwen…the men of the Council have hopes that we will be out here for some time…_ He hardly would communicate that to her along with his worries, his irritation. But she saw the flash of uncertainty, of annoyance, of pain, dart behind his eyes.

"We are so connected, you and I," she continued in the same, soft voice, stroking her fingers through his hair again. "Will you not..." She stopped midsentence, and she turned towards him in his arms, resting her back against his raised knee. "There is something that is weighing on you tonight, beloved. It is troubling your heart. You are hiding it."

"If I hide it so well, why is it that you still notice?"

"I did not say you were hiding it _well_." She lowered her hand to his heart, feeling its rhythm. "And we are one, dearest. I know you so well." Her eyes met his once more.

 _Tell me._

He shook his head slowly, covering her hand with his and feeling its warmth. "Do not trouble yourself over it." Looking away from her eyes was necessary; he wanted to say nothing more about it.

She was thinking about it; he knew she was. What he did not know was that she knew a bit of what had happened; she had seen him, and she had seen _Vändir_ as well. Oh, too well did she remember the things he had said and done to them. And _Faramir's_ violence…the terrible pain in her heart…Aragorn's tears and grief over what they had done…she remembered the woman from Dol Amroth…she could have shuddered with the memory of the anguish it had brought them. She could imagine, though she did not want to, what that creature had said to her beloved.

"Vändir," she spoke softly, and he nearly gave himself away by flinching. "He was with you, cornering you. And you were angry…you argued."

"We did not argue," he replied calmly, without defensiveness.

"You were glaring at him—"

"That is not arguing."

"—and would have set him on fire if you had stared at him a moment more."

"You were dancing," he said firmly. "You must not have seen what you thought you did…you _could_ not have seen…"

Her fingers tightened in his. "You were spouting flame as a dragon."

"It was…a differing of opinions; that is all."

"Beloved—"

"Arwen…" He looked back into her eyes. "Let it be," he asserted softly. She knew that he wanted her to drop it, and he knew that she bothered out of a desire to share in whatever was gnawing at him. But it was not going to work; she knew from that look in his eye that she would learn nothing more.

She sighed, leaning her forehead against his again. "Will you please tell me if there are worries I should have? He is not going to try and murder you in your sleep? I do not need Captain Mennev to stand guard over you because of something foul you said to him?"

Aragorn sighed, closing his eyes. "I said nothing foul…and all he need do is give me an excuse and a moment of weakness… _I_ would take care of _him_ ," he added gruffly.

" _Aragorn_ —" she chided, a bit alarmed that he was serious.

"I…only jest." _Mostly_. "I said almost nothing to him; I could barely stop him from speaking. I was doing my best to ignore him." He sighed. "I…do not want to talk about this now…perhaps not ever. He is not worth one more moment's thought."

"But you _are_ thinking of him; it is still weighing on you," she whispered, stroking the side of his face with her hand. "I can feel your tension."

"I want to stop thinking about _him_ ," he murmured, and she suddenly found herself tipped backwards and lowered into the grass. He leaned over her, looking down into her eyes as she raised both hands to his face. "I want to think about you…and you alone."

"I want to let you," she told him, "but I…I want you to promise me something."

"No." He dipped his head and brushed his nose against her cheek, moving towards her ear. But she was not about to let him get away from her; not that easy. She tilted her head away so he missed brushing her ear.

"What?" she asked.

"No…no, no, no, no," he murmured, and she felt his love pour through their bond. He did not say no because he wanted to spite her. "I will promise nothing that has to do with them." He lowered himself to lie beside her, leaning his head on his hand and laying the other on her ribs. "I will protect you from them until my last breath. You are my _wife_ , whom I love, my life, the very air I breathe…and I will not hear one _word_ against you." His eyes were intense as she held his face between her hands.

"What ever happened," she asked him softly, "to restraint? To not reacting to the words of others? To not needing to have an answer for them? Your words." She was reminding him about the rule he had set for himself; as King, as a person, he was usually reserved. But for Aragorn, there was no longer any room for reservation…not here.

His grey eyes told the whole answer, yet he only whispered, "Beloved, I am three years older…and three years less patient…and three years more in love with you. I am tired of choosing the peaceful road; I am tired of their… _lecturing…_ and their dropped hints of what I should be doing. As if I am not _passionately_ in love with you. As if I need _advice_ on how to love you. As if I care what any of them think or feel about you." He lowered his brow to her chest and felt her fingers stroking over his ears and the back of his neck. He was whisper-shouting now as he continued, "Nothing else matters… _nothing_ matters except my love for you. Hang Gondor…hang the Council…hang their expectations and desires!"

She wanted to laugh, but she could not. Instead, she continued her gentle stroking of his head. "I know you do not mean that."

She felt a burst of frustration so strong from him, felt his breath catch against her body. Her words made him want to break down into discouraged tears. He _did_ care for Gondor, cared far too much…or he would not be here and neither would she. It was the rest of the pain it had brought them that he did not want. He was quiet, closed his eyes, and just focused on her touch.

"I love you," she said softly. "Let it go, beloved. Let go your frustration, let go their words, let go the time they have stolen from us. Just lie here with me…close your eyes and rest, and forget them…you have found us a haven from the world for today. Ilúvatar has blessed us with this day, this time…let us find peace in that, in one another. Rest now." She slipped the hand on his neck down to his back and rubbed his shoulders as he pressed his body close to hers, wrapping against her, his cheek against her breast. "When the sun brings a new day in a few short hours, we will rise with it, and we will make love," she said tenderly. "We will celebrate all we are, and all we have…and rejoice in our love."

"Ten years of it," he whispered, and her fingers curved around his ear and then returned to his face, fingertips brushing his eyelids. "Ten blissful, Ilúvatar-granted years full of loving you. May he grant that it will last every day I have left in Middle-Earth."

"And mine," she replied, and then prayed softly, "May Ilúvatar grant that there be a terribly long count to the number of days left to love you."

"Terribly long?" he whispered.

"Forever…if He will count that long," she murmured, and he sighed. A caress in her mind—his agreement.

"I pledge myself to thee, Arwen, daughter of the evening star," he whispered, and she smiled at his words. Every year since they had that Midsummer's night under the starlight on Cerin Amroth, sometime on the anniversary of that first pledge, they would speak the words to one another—apart, as it had been for thirty years, or together, as it had been for the last ten. "That I will love you and share with you the rest of my life. Whatever I have to give, I give it to you, and you alone."

She stroked her fingers against his face. "I pledge myself to thee, Aragorn, Elessar Telcontar, Envinyatar, that I will love you and share with you the rest of my life. Whatever I have to give, I give it to you, and you alone."

"Oh, Ilúvatar…may I prove worthy of it," he whispered the prayer. She understood that he had not meant to say the words aloud, but even if he had thought them she would have heard them.

 _Oh_ , _my_ _beloved…you are worthy. We were made for one another, meant to be. It was the desire of Ilúvatar's heart that we become one. Rest now, be at peace…and wake with the sun and me._


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thanks for those of you who are following! I hope you enjoy the story. :O) To my reviewers, especially Wicked, I am sorry to say that this is not THAT story-I promise I will write a story of Eldarion's birth but this isn't it. My bad! LOL And to WickedGreene13 who's been following all my stories, it's not the WHOLE council that's nuts...just Nardur (and Vandir and one more guy), the rest of them, especially Noldore and Dintir, are pretty good guys. :O) At least, I think so...heehee.

Anyway, have as much fun reading about these characters as I did writing about them!

* * *

Enguina walked out the front door of their home, rubbing her belly. Last evening had _not_ been a good night's sleep. In fact, it had been the worst yet. Not only had the baby been fluttering like a rain storm inside her, but when she _had_ finally fallen asleep, she had a most arousing and uncomfortable dream about Legolas that she had just about had enough of. Oh how her desire for him _plagued_ her! She was so restless that the dream had set her to pacing the floor in their bedroom. Finally, she had to relocate herself to the divan in the sitting room, as she simply could not lie in their bed any more, knowing that there was bound to be another dream. Though they were thousands of times better than the night-terrors of her past, these were a bit much.

She was _lonely_. She loved Erumar with all of her heart, and she was wonderful company, but she was not Legolas. She wanted him to return _this moment_ and touch her… _everywhere_. Rubbing her arms and then crossing them, she looked out across the meadow towards the pasture where Lómë and Rûnving were grazing quietly, and she thought of how that peaceful scene should have cooled her down. It was nearly hopeless. Sighing, she tried to think of other things, and instead what drew her focus was that it was now July…and Arwen still had not contacted her. No, there was nothing for it. Arwen and Aragorn would have to be told in person how wrong it was for them not to respond to such joyous news. She was settled in it. Now…to convince Erumar.

As she was thinking of Erumar, she could not help but be curious as to where the woman had wandered off to. She had scanned her room this morning on the way out and there was no way she had still been inside the kitchen as she had come out that way, so she truly had no idea where she could be. Sighing, she continued to scan the length of the meadow, looking this way and that, and craning her head about so that she could find her friend. Finally, after several moments where she nearly called out for her, she saw her sitting in the grass in front of the bench. She clearly had not noticed her at first because Erumar's head was down, her forehead resting on the stone.

There was something wrong. Enguina went to her, quietly at first, and simply took a seat on the bench beside her head. She gave her space, enough space for her to drag her fingers along the carving Legolas had made in it once again. She knew enough about her sister to know that she really should leave well-enough alone; she had spent enough time with her in times of despair to know that she was hurting and assumed she knew what it was. Unspeaking, she continued to sit there, wondering if Erumar intended to speak at all, or if she had even noticed her.

Finally, she could not wait any longer; she had never been one for too much patience.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked softly, reaching over to lay a hand on Erumar's shoulder. She shuddered, but did not pull away. Enguina hesitated, reminded again that she should probably leave her alone. As usual, she could not; suffering was not something she dealt with well.

"I…do not know if I _can_." Erumar's voice broke at the end, and that was the moment she realized that her friend was crying.

"Haldir?" Enguina asked softly, and Erumar sat back, pulling her head up from her arms and trying to wipe the tears away with the back of her hands. She must have been there for some time.

"I cannot understand! One moment I am fine and then…the next I can barely _breathe_ with the pain of the loss. I loved him, and he is gone forever. _Why_ am I still here? _Why?_ " She looked up at the blue sky, tears still coming. "It is as though Ilúvatar wants to _punish_ me."

"No, no," Enguina refuted, squeezing her shoulder. "That is not true. Ilúvatar does not punish us; He loves his children. He loves you."

Erumar's eyes closed in pain. "Enguina, this does not feel like love." Her hands clenched, and a thin line of red caught Enguina's eye. Immediately, she reached for them, horrified.

" _Erumar!_ " she cried, and she grabbed her wrist, turning her hand so she could see it better. "Oh my… _Ilúvatar,_ what is _wrong_ with you? You have to _stop_ —"

Erumar yanked her hands back from her and stumbled to her feet, having knelt for too long. She turned away, cupping her hands to her chest, fingers trembling. She shook her head, staring down at the short cuts on her palms. "I did not know I was…doing it. I…did not…I did not mean to…"

There were a few beats of quiet, mostly because Enguina was trying to control her desire to rage at her friend. Did she not know that hurting herself like that was _not_ the answer? She could barely feel her fingers, her hands, already as it was, why cut them?! Anger at seeing her do something like that when she had been doing so well infuriated her; but that was her irrational outburst from her hormones running amok. She could not rage at Erumar…that would not make anything better. No, she needed tact…and patience, neither of which she had very much of. The desire for Arwen to be at her side suddenly was very real.

"No," Enguina said. She stood, and reached over to hug her from behind. "Of course you did not mean to. It…it is not your fault. I am so sorry, Erumar. I did not mean to yell at you, I just overreacted. Please…let me see? It was just an accident; I am sure you did not—"

"An accident," she murmured, tears still in her eyes. "How I wish I could say that with truth…" Still staring at her hands, almost in a state of disbelief, she rubbed her fingers against the edges of the cuts.

"Stop that," Enguina said in her ear. "You will hurt yourself worse."

Erumar shook her head. "How can I? I can barely feel it."

"Come to the well, and we will rinse your hands and clean these," Enguina said, more to distract her than anything else. She took her by the hand to lead her.

It was not far, just on the other side of the house. Enguina pumped some water into the bucket and then she cleaned the cuts Erumar had made in her hands. She did not look into her face while she was doing it, and Erumar said not one word. Afterwards, she picked up her head, and Erumar would not look her in the eye.

"Was it a terrible dream?" she asked softly, but Erumar only shook her head in reply. "Can you talk about it?" Erumar shook her head again, gasping back part of a sob, trying to prevent losing herself to tears again. "Calm down, Erumar," Enguina said, reaching up to stroke her hair once. "Everything is all right now; you are awake and it is only a memory." She looked down at Erumar's hands again and traced one of the cuts on her finger. "What did you use to do this?" Her voice was quiet and calm, which was nothing like she felt on the inside. She did not know _what_ to do.

"I do not know," came her whispered reply. "I do not remember doing it."

Enguina could tell from her face that she was telling the truth. She reached up and placed both of her hands on her friend's face. "Hurting yourself," she told her gently, "is not the answer."

"I know…I know that," she muttered. "Sometimes…I think I want to feel something else instead of the pain of losing him." She looked terribly guilty.

"Here," Enguina offered, taking her hands in her own, "feel this instead." She laid Erumar's hands along her belly. "Feel the baby. Come and wake me when something like this happens. Erumar, I can help."

She was silent for a moment. "Perhaps it might help to focus on something so positive," she mumbled thoughtfully, "to remind me that there is life to live for."

"That is why you should be _here_ , and not on your own," she insisted. Erumar knew she was referring to their conversation about her indecision with what to do with herself when the child was born. Enguina reached up to stroke her face again as Erumar left her hands on Enguina's belly, feeling the flutters of the baby. "You were not yet ready to be alone those years ago when I left you. That was wrong, and I am sorry for it."

"Oh no, no. _You_ will not be blamed for _that_ ," Erumar stated, her voice firm. "I chased you away as fast as I could force you to go away and leave me. No, Enguina, that was _my_ fault, and mine alone. And beside all of that, if you had not come to Minas Tirith, you would never have met Legolas, and staying and comforting me is not as important as your happiness, whatever you may say."

"That is how _you_ feel about that," Enguina said, giving her a very pointed look and then she sighed. "Erumar, you have always been important to me, and you always will be. You are a beloved sister, and I…refuse to let you out of my sight again. You are staying with me until you have to make a decision."

"Enguina—"

"I will hear nothing against it," she said firmly. "Now, I had something I wanted to discuss with you, and I suppose now is as good a time as any."

"What is it?"

"It is July. Arwen has yet to respond to my letter full of joyous news, and I am tired of waiting. I want to go to Minas Tirith and visit her in person."

"What?" Erumar asked in disbelief. "You are not serious."

"Perfectly serious, Erumar."

"Enguina," she began, trying to reason with her, "the intention of our staying here instead of traveling with Legolas to Helm's Deep was because you were with child. Now you are proposing to ride to Minas Tirith without him?" Her voice had become incredulous. "You must be mad."

"Restless," she pointed out, and Erumar lowered her head to her hand, looking as though she wished she had never given Enguina the word. "I am terribly lonely for the others, and it has been just the two of us for nearly two months. This will give me something to _do_ , something to occupy my time. I do not want Arwen to find out I am with child when he is three years old! I want her to know _now_ , and it would serve more than one purpose to go there ourselves."

"More than one purpose? Such as?"

"First, Arwen and Aragorn knowing about the soon-to-be birth of our child. Secondly, it would cure me of this restlessness. Third, Arwen can talk you down out of this state you are in much more easily than me—"

"State?" Erumar lifted her head, irritation in her eyes. "What 'state' am I in? Everything is—"

"Also," Enguina continued, interrupting, "perhaps being in Minas Tirith and speaking with Aragorn and Arwen will help you make a decision about a part of your future, especially when dealing with _Thranduil_. Beside all of that," she continued quickly to prevent Erumar from the snarl that was definitely crossing her face, "do you not want to see Arwen? She is your friend as well. _And_ Aragorn. The two of them mean so much to us, and it would mean so much to _me_ if we could go there."

"Enguina—"

"Erumar, let me be honest: I _hate_ the possibility that they do not know Legolas and I are to have a child. I hate it."

"I understand that," she said, trying to be reasonable. "But honestly, what would Legolas say?"

"He would be upset that they do not know as well," she said, raising her eyebrows at her. "Aragorn is his closest friend, aside from Gimli; they have known one another since the man was five-and-twenty. He would want Aragorn to know."

"You are right about that, Enguina, but he would not be pleased about you traveling. Not at all," she stated. "You are five months pregnant! I know you are restless, but…why do we not visit some of the other elves here in Ithilien? They are well within a day's ride." She was offering a concession, and Enguina was in no way going to make it.

"Erumar, I want to see _Arwen_."

"I…know," she admitted. "I just…I feel that you need to be careful. Enguina, this _is_ your first child…and like it or not, children are very—"

"Difficult to bear for an Elvish woman, yes! I know!" Enguina insisted. "I know that Legolas wants me to be safe, and I know that you do as well. But he went to tell _Gimli_ in person, why can I not tell Arwen and Aragorn?"

"Enguina, it is a long way on horseback—"

"It is only a few days! We can ride slowly and take our time. We could even walk the entire way if you wanted," she suggested, but Erumar was still frowning.

"You are _five months_ along—"

Her friend groaned. "Erumar, _please_! Lómë and I have been with one another for years! Nothing is going to go wrong. This is Ithilien now, completely safe and beautiful in summer. I am not riding for a few weeks, I will be riding for a few days, frequently stopping—"

"It is an unnecessary journey."

"I want her to know. I want my closest friend in the entire world to know that we are having a baby! I want her to _know_ , Erumar! I want to see her eyes light up the way they did when she discovered Legolas had asked me to wed him. _Please_! You must understand!"

"Even if Legolas was a bit overbearing before he left, he was not wrong about some things. You simply should not do certain things when with child," Erumar said. "Riding for miles on horseback is one of them."

"I know, but—"

"It is not healthy for you or the babe."

"I _know_ , but—"

"You could—"

"I _know_ : Elven women have a more challenging time bearing children than mortals do, that is why there are so few children for us," she repeated by rote, clearly having heard it many times. "After being fortunate enough to conceive at first, as it is very difficult, I could also miscarry or injure myself in the process of bearing the child into the world." She closed her eyes and sighed loudly. " _Yes_ , I _know_ , Erumar. You and Legolas never ceased telling me."

"You would do well to remember our words," Erumar stated, suddenly stern, and Enguina could not ignore her. "Sometimes, you are so headstrong!" she added with frustration. "You have been so blessed, to be with child so early in your marriage to Legolas. Did you not hear my tales of the children the other evening? How difficult and painful it was? And I am not alone, Enguina. Think of the friend you wish to go and see; think of her miscarriage four years ago." Enguina cringed and looked away, but could not block out Erumar's voice. "You do not _ever_ want that to be you."

"Forgive me," she said immediately, but softly. "I did not mean for my words to sound so trite. I know the difficulties and I understand the risks. Arwen's situation was very different than mine."

Erumar knew she was contrite; her voice was very quiet. "Arwen's situation _was_ different, but the pain would be very real, Enguina. Please…just _think_ …and do not take your blessing for granted."

"Oh Erumar, I do not. I thank Ilúvatar every day for the blessings he has richly bestowed upon me; I cannot forget them—they are all around me! And I am grateful for your counsel. I _am_ ," she stated firmly when Erumar rolled her eyes. "I still want to travel to Minas Tirith."

"Legolas's heart would give out if he were to come here and you were not here."

"We can leave him a message he will not miss. He can meet us there, in Minas Tirith! We could even send a messenger _from_ Minas Tirith, if we wanted, to Helm's Deep. It is only the first days of July and the baby is not due until November. I will be home _long_ before then, or, if Legolas is open to it, perhaps I could have the baby there. Maybe he—"

"I thought _you_ wanted to have the child here, in your home," Erumar asked, confused.

"I did, but perhaps _Legolas_ would be easier with his friends nearby. And perhaps I would too," she admitted. "I do not know. Either way, I still have several months to decide."

"Several months? You should make the decision long before that. What if snow comes early this year and the harvest is short? You will be trapped there then; journeying on horseback in the snow? Legolas might kill you himself."

She chuckled. "Oh _Erumar_ , do not exaggerate. I am an elf—cold does not affect me. Beside all that, I do not want to think of winter. It is _summer_! Just think, riding through the beauty of Ithilien, laying out under the stars, and we can take as much time as we need to make the trip. Think of it, Erumar; just you and me traveling together—"

"Oh, imagine that," Erumar said dryly. "You know that every time you have been away from home and traveling within the last four years has led to some minor injury on your part?"

"Not _every_ journey," she replied. "The celebration of our wedding in Dol Amroth did not have any sudden injuries."

"It did upon your return."

"Erumar, you need to relax," she said, rolling her eyes. "We are only riding to Minas Tirith. It is an easy ride."

Erumar sighed, low and long. "There…there will be no talking you out of this, will there? Your mind is set on Arwen and Minas Tirith."

"No, my heart is," she answered honestly. "I truly miss her and want to see her." Then she smiled. "Thank you, Erumar."

"I did not say 'yes.'"

"You did, simply not out loud." She smiled at her and Erumar looked down into her hopeful face.

"Legolas is going to be _very_ cross."

"I have been cross for weeks!" she laughed. "He should not have left me then. I am only doing what he did—visiting a friend—except that I do not have to travel quite so far." She raised her eyebrow. "You will be coming, yes? As my protector?"

Erumar sighed again. "Remember that if anything goes wrong, I stood in the firm belief that this was a poor choice on your part, but I _had_ to go along with you, otherwise I would have never heard the end of it. And that is what I will tell him if he tries to take it out on _me_. _And_ I would be remiss in my promise to Legolas if I were to let you go alone, which I would never, _ever_ do."

"I will consider your words marked," she laughed softly, and then she reached down and covered Erumar's hands. "And do not appear so stern; you are _happy_ to be going!"

"I…will admit that I look forward to seeing both of them very much," Erumar confessed.

"How wonderful it will be to see them again! How wonderful it will be to share with them the news! How good it will be for our souls to spend time with two so very positive and wonderful people, yes?"

Erumar smiled at that, feeling the baby bump her for the first time. "Yes, it would be good to be lifted up within their company."

"We have so much to prepare! Let us get started, Erumar." She stood up and spun around in a circle, so full of joy that it was infectious—even Erumar laughed when Enguina tried to spin her. "Let us make ready for your journey!"

* * *

Nardur stood near the bushes at the garden edge, watching the Queen sitting near the fountain. This had been her normal morning routine for the last two years now, and she had returned to it almost immediately by the end of the first week they had returned from Dol Amroth. Yes, the beautiful Lady Arwen sat beside the Tree for quiet devotions, and then headed out into the City for whatever were her purposes for the day.

He had been watching her for the past week coming and going. He was as silent as a statue, so he knew that she never took notice of him. Others nearby, yes; the gardens were open to all, but he stood almost completely concealed except for this space in the lilies that he peered through. When she was by the Tree, almost no one disturbed her. Every once in a while, Elessar might take leave of her from here instead of at the House, but the parting was always quite chaste, never more than a brush of the hands or arms. Their love was quiet, between them alone, and it had been difficult for him to gauge if the words from the other evening, both Vändir's and his, were persuading the King to more… _nightly_ pursuits.

Oh, he knew that on the day of remembering their wedding both of them had disappeared and for most of the evening, too. That had been a good beginning to say the least, and he knew from Ethring's good eyes that the King had bedded his wife at least once more since then. Nardur's personal goal was that the King needed to be with his wife as many times as he could. He had _many_ opportunities in the three weeks since he had been home and still…possibly three times? _What_ was the man waiting for—this generation of Gondor to pass away before they produced a child? No, it was time to step in again. Within the last week he had spoken briefly to the King again, but it had been just that—brief. He had simply mentioned in passing that the King needed to think of the future and begin preparing for it. A child might not be too far away! That had not pleased him, but Elessar was too reserved to react to such a comment, at least not publically.

Nardur had been in the business of dropping other little hints to men on the council; encourage the King to spend more time with his wife, and so on. The King was usually not at the meetings as late in the evening now as he had been; this had been a good move. There was more time for the couple to spend time with each other…alone. Though to his eyes Arwen, in the very least, appeared unchanged. Her long dark hair was braided today, but there was no glow on her face as there had been when she had been with child. Oh, how he had studied her! It was time to lean on Arwen now…not only her husband, the King. Perhaps she would be easier to push her into her husband's arms instead of the other way around.

* * *

Arwen pressed her bare feet into the soft grass that surrounded the Fountain. She had been walking about the rows and smelling the blooming flowers. Since Thranduil had been here pruning them several years ago, they had only grown more beautiful, and the mallorn that Enguina had planted was growing past her waist and reaching for the sky. As she gazed up into the blossoms on the White Tree, she smiled and reached up, cupping her hand around one. Oh, how beautiful they were, and the scent of them assaulted her senses. She listened to the fountain flowing, closed her eyes, and felt the sun on her face.

 _Ilúvatar, this is a beautiful morning, full of your grace and reminders that you make everything new and beautiful. Lord, I know that with all the traveling I did not spend much quiet time with you; I regret it. You have renewed me since we returned home and reminded me of your constant presence. Spending time reuniting with the people has been a gift. You know that I have my dear friends weighing on my heart this morning. I am not worried for them, but please continue to keep them in your care. Please let the messengers bring back good news upon their return, and make it soon that I can visit them myself._ She sighed.

 _I miss Enguina terribly; I wish she were here so that we could talk about the many things that have happened to her over these last few years…and how she and Legolas are doing together. I know that if she has even a tenth of the happiness that I feel with Aragorn, she is enjoying her new life. I pray that you have helped them overcome every challenge and that Enguina has the opportunity to love Legolas as I…have loved Aragorn. Making time to love Aragorn is one of the greatest desires of my heart._

She swallowed hard and her toes curled in the grass, the impassioned memory of his hands on her body in the early hours of the morning returning to her with intensity. Her skin flushed with pleasure and she exhaled, releasing her tension. She felt almost as she had in the stable that evening when they had returned to Minas Tirith; sometimes she discovered that the more she was with him, the more she desired him. This morning was no exception.

 _Father, I praise you for being able to love Aragorn with all of my strength, to be able to willingly and wonderfully give myself to him. Oh, how I love him! You have blessed me with such a man to make me feel so wanted and protected, sheltered in his arms, his body. I thank you for his love._ She smiled. _I thank you for these feelings I have for him that sometimes are difficult to control; they make me feel so alive! Send him my love today; let him feel what I feel for him as he goes about his day. Remind him, and me, of that peace that we feel when we are together alone—_

She heard the movement of the grass under booted feet and she opened her eyes. It was not often that she found herself disturbed here; usually at this hour of the morning all was quiet on the seventh level. Turning her head to the direction of the sound, she saw Nardur walking towards her, a smile on his face. It had been some time since she had been around him, but he was impeccably dressed and groomed as he always had been. She collected herself; he was not a member of the council that she got along with readily, she did not know him well. She also found him too aggressive, and catching her at a moment when she was praying for Aragorn and their love…she felt _exposed_. She was almost as embarrassed as she had been when Dintîr had nearly caught them in the stable.

"Lady Evenstar," he said, bowing his head, "I hope I do not disturb your devotions."

She gave him a smile and inclined her head. "Good morning, my Lord. It is all right; I am happy to greet you."

"Perhaps not devotions, but thoughts?" he said, and she noticed a gleam in his eye that she found…confusing, to say the least. "Thinking of the future or the past? Either way it is a lovely morning for it. If I were you, I would leave the past behind; too many painful memories. The future holds more promise of good, I daresay."

"There are many good memories in the past, my Lord," she answered. "Most of them are not painful, and many good memories have been made here in Minas Tirith as well."

"I only meant in the last few years; you understand, the miscarriage of your son and your poisoning. Forgive me, but I think it best to look past those events and look towards the promise of a new day full of new possibilities."

Arwen looked at him with the same cordial expression, but inside she felt as though he had hit her in the stomach with a rock. He had spoken _that_ word…the word she could never say to herself even when she tried in moments when she was alone. She had not thought of the child they had lost in the most recent months. Desperate to get away from the memory, she tried to force the feelings away.

"Yes, there are new possibilities every day," she replied, stumbling over the words a bit.

"I know that we do not know each other well," Nardur continued, "but I know the King quite well as a member of the Council."

She nodded. "Yes, he has spoken of you many times." She gave him a little smile, grateful he created the distraction of changing the topic of conversation. "The walls of the Pelennor are beautiful; Lord Dintîr said it was your treaty that brought the Ents to Minas Tirith."

He bowed his head to her. "Thank you. Perhaps, even though I do not know you quite well, I could offer some advice to you."

She tilted her head with some confusion. "Advice, my Lord? I do not understand."

"I know that there are many worries and trials in the life of a Queen," he said. "You have numerous duties and you are pulled this way and that by the people of Gondor as well, who care for you and love you. Their devotion to you as their Queen is in part because of their hope in their King and because of your goodness toward them." He looked at her kindly. "One of the greatest hopes of the people of Gondor is for their King to have an heir. I know that you understand this from the rumblings within Minas Tirith itself, however, this is not only true for our City, but for the Reunited Kingdom as a whole."

She swallowed. "I…yes, I understand."

"As you know, the people were terribly saddened along with your grief over the loss of your child. But everyone, including yourself should look to the future. It has been nearly four years; perhaps the time for an heir is drawing nigh. I am sure that you are worried, as are the people."

He could tell that she was struggling with the conversation already, unsure of what to say in response to him. "Worried?" she parroted him, confusion written on her face. "I do not know what you mean to say, my Lord." She shook her head slowly, the beginnings of embarrassment on her face. "I…think this might be too personal of a matter to—"

"It _is_ personal," he interrupted her gently, "but that is why it is so important. You are the Queen, and there are expectations that many have of you. It has been ten years since you were wed, and yet, there is still not an heir to the throne of Gondor. This is a worry of many within the City."

She paled, and her fingers tightened on one another. "I…I…" she was fumbling now, unsure what to say, how to make this awkward conversation end. She should stand and leave, but her knees felt weak. Why could she not get angry and storm away? Why was her reaction doubt and pain…and _guilt…and shame_?

"There are ways to ensure the continuation of the House of Telcontar," Nardur continued, watching her face. He wanted her to ask him what he meant, but she was not about to do that.

The conversation needed to end. "We should not be speaking about this," she said, her voice as soft as ever, and he bowed his head.

"Evenstar, I understand if our speaking makes you uncomfortable, but you do realize that the only way to be certain there will be a child is for you and the King to spend more time alone?"

Her stomach plummeted to her knees. _What?_ Her face was hot; she knew it must have been bright red and that her ears were beginning to turn pink as well. "That is very bold of you," she stuttered, so flustered. "I—"

"I embarrass you," he admitted sheepishly, but yet he continued! "I know that Elves are different than mortals in many ways, but there is no shame in desiring one's spouse." She had to look away from his eyes, mortified at his words. "You will have to forgive me, my Lady; I mean to cause you no discomfort, but I do not know if you realize how much your people are behind you. Everyone wants to see the line of Elendil grow, and you are part of that blessing on its House. Please, understand that the prayers of the people are with you and surround you. You are so thoughtful in your devotion to them, I am sure you will not forget their greatest hopes for you both."

He lifted his head, looking towards the Tower of Ecthelion. "The Council meeting is coming into session, and I must away. Think on my words, Lady; no one in Minas Tirith would begrudge you any time spent with your husband, not with the prospective hope that should come from such a union. Good day, Evenstar."

Arwen could not possibly even bid him good day; her mind was a haphazard, humiliated mess. Untwisting her fingers, she lifted her hands to her face and pressed them against her hot skin, trying to ease her own disgrace. _The people of Gondor would begrudge you nothing? The only way for there to be a child is for you and the King to spend more time alone? After ten years there is still no heir to the throne of Gondor?_ _ **What?!**_

She was ashamed that this man whom she had never spent any particular time with, had never truly known, had approached her about such a _subject_. Her mind was flying a thousand miles a moment. Elves may be different but human desires are the same so there was nothing wrong with her desiring her husband whenever she wanted to because she was the King's wife and the people were looking forward to an heir, and the only sure way to make certain there was one was for her to _lay_ with her husband as many times as possible because every citizen of Minas Tirith was worried that it had been ten years and there still was not one and—

She dropped her head into her hands, covering her face. _Ilúvatar! Ilúvatar! How did my morning devotion come to_ this _?! Return me to your peace! In your grace alone should I stand. How I beg you to restore me to the peace of the morning!_

Her mind kept coming back to the people. _The people_ , he had said, over and over again. The people pray for you to have a child; the people are worried; the people want to see the House of Telcontar stand strong. Yes, the people! Not one man's words, but a man who was bringing the thoughts of the people with him. Oh, yes; she could tell herself that it was only one man, but she _knew_. She knew it had been too long. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the question of 'when' would reawaken. Yes, four years was a long time when the City was well aware that she and Aragorn were happily married…and lovers.

Panic, anxiety was flooding her heart now, and she had not felt them in some time. Other things were hedging in as well…other deep sadness that she did not want to think of, not _ever_ , if she could help it. No, no…it had to stay away! She had to beat it back, force it away, and press against the darkness of the past! But she was _weak_ against her memories of agony, grief, and troubled thoughts.

 _Ilúvatar…get me off this path…rescue me, please! Pull me away from these shadows! Make me forget again; have me focus on you, on your grace, your love, your hope! Please, please!_

"Lady Arwen, are you unwell?" The voice came from off to her left nearest the hedgerows closest to the Embrasure. She recognized that voice quite well, as she had heard it many times over the past four years. Hildanir had become a friend to Aragorn, not only someone they both trusted.

 _When I am weak, you are strong._ _Thank you, Father!_ She lifted her head and met his eyes as he made his way to her side. He was a striking figure in his full armor, and as he came close, he removed the winged helm.

"I was lost in my thoughts, Lieutenant," she answered softly, giving him a grateful smile. "Thank you for interrupting them."

He looked confused for a moment at her words, but then he nodded. "I think you are welcome. You are certain that you are well? I should not send for the King?"

"Oh, no," she replied immediately, shaking her head, "certainly not; I am quite well. Please, do not fret, Hildanir."

"Forgive me," he stated, feeling a bit strange. "Something drew me to the garden from my post, and when I came around the hedgerow, I thought you were ill. I must have been mistaken." He nodded to her as if he were preparing to leave, but she was not about to be alone; not at this time when Ilúvatar had so clearly brought him here to answer her prayer. "I will be on my way."

"Hildanir, perhaps there is something you can do for me. If it is not too much to ask, and if you will not be castigated by Captain Mennev for leaving your post for a short time, would you walk with me for a little while? I am to visit a dear friend on the fifth level, and I would welcome the company, even briefly, if you could spare it. It will not take long to get there."

"I would not incite the Captain's wrath if I were to accompany you," he said with a small smile, bowing at the waist. "You must understand that anything you would ask would replace any command of his."

She returned his smile. "The Captain would be delighted to hear you say that."

"Yes well," he answered her, "even gruff as he is, you have a power over the guard that he can never have. Please, it would be my pleasure."

Arwen stood and he took a place beside her as they began walking toward the rosebushes, Hildanir still holding his helm. She looked at him and gave him a little smile, her mind drawing further from her talk with Nardur. Already, she felt more of the peace she had felt that morning.

"I think I may know what you are about to say," he said, shaking his head.

Her smile widened. "I _have_ been meaning to ask you since we returned…are you still intending to court Trena, the apothecary's granddaughter?"

He groaned. "The King provoked you to this, did he not?"

"Not at all," she replied simply. "It was I who asked _him_ about it."

"I told him to let it be," he muttered, and then he sighed. "Well, I did not tell him anything, in fact; one does not _tell_ King Elessar what to do. I begged him to let it be."

"In many ways," she said with a smile, threading her arm through his, "I can be worse than him. So…are you sweet on her?"

He looked away and groaned again, a bit embarrassed. Arwen laughed, now in good spirits.

"Come now, Hildanir! Tell me of your plight as we walk."


	6. Chapter 6

Enguina tugged softly on Lómë's reins, laughing gaily as he slowed to a trot and then to a walk. Oh how wonderful it was to be on horseback again! She and Erumar had been on the road for two days now, and it had felt so good to let the black loose a little. Her hair blowing in the summer breeze, the sun warm on her skin; she had not felt so good in weeks. Quickly, alongside her came the brilliant chestnut mare, Erumar drawing Rûnving back to match the same fast walk as Lómë. Erumar sighed loudly.

"I know what you are about to say, Erumar!" she laughed.

"Oh, then you should remember that you promised, yes?" Erumar insisted, though she was not angry. In fact, she had enjoyed it herself, but did not want to say as much to Enguina.

"You were as delighted as me," she said, shoving her gently. "You simply do not want to admit it. Well, I know you better, Erumar. You cannot fool me."

She rolled her eyes. "You are impossible."

Enguina laughed aloud. "Yes, I am. There is no way you realized that _now_ after all these years."

"No, simply stating a fact."

"Is this day not _glorious_?" Enguina grinned around at the beauty of Ithilien. "I love living here, Erumar; I love everything about it."

Erumar laughed at her. "Of course you do! _Legolas_ is here."

"That is not the only reason, silly. Though I would agree that is most of it," she admitted. Then she looked over at her. "Do you think he will be very angry when he reads where we have gone?"

"That will depend upon what you told him in your letter," Erumar said, raising an eyebrow.

"I explained quickly enough," she confessed. "I think he may be upset at the start, but by the time he makes the journey here he will be so excited to see me that he will forget his irritation."

Erumar shook her head with a rueful smile. "I am sure for your sake, he certainly will."

They rode in silence for a few minutes, each of them taking in the general splendor that was Ithilien. They listened to the birds and the wind in the trees, and then finally Enguina turned to look at her again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Can you tell me what it is really like to bring a child into the world?" Enguina asked. "I have been thinking of nothing but the babe for the past few hours as we have been riding," she added, rubbing a hand across the swelling of her stomach. "What is it that I should expect? Is there anything more I should know?"

"I am sure there are a thousand things," Erumar chuckled softly. "Though I should like to tell you that there is nothing like it…seeing that precious face for the first time, knowing that you were a part of their life from the moment of conceiving them. That new life is a part of you and your husband, made out of love and grace. There is _nothing_ like it when you first cuddle them in your arms, when you first look down into their face and kiss their little eyelids as they sleep…"

Enguina stared at the dreamlike expression on her face with wonder. Oh what it would be like to see a face that was the perfect blend of her and Legolas! Would he have Legolas's blue eyes or her green? Would he be slender or a stout little thing? What would his first sound be? What would he look at first? What would catch her eye first about him? Oh, the questions she had! She could hardly wait to hold this little babe in her arms; to see the look in Legolas's eyes when he would first behold him, to watch him adore the little smile and eyes and hands and feet!

"It is a heavenly moment," Erumar said softly with a slow smile and when she looked into Enguina's face, she saw tears in her eyes.

"Forgive me," Enguina said, trying to laugh it off and drag her fingers beneath her eyes to keep the tears off her face. "I was moved by your words, and I cannot imagine what our child will look like, how I will _feel_ …" She reached down and rubbed the small bump. "Erumar, I…"

Erumar leaned over and laid a hand on Enguina's arm. "You are _blessed_ , Enguina. I do not think there is a single elf who could say that within even the first twenty years of their marriage, they conceived. You _are_ blessed, both of you."

"It feels like it," she replied. "I cannot wait to hold him in my arms." She looked over to her friend again. "And what of labor, Erumar? Are all labors difficult? I know the trouble Éowyn had when we were married, and I know that you struggled very much, especially with Hrivë. I do not think I remember your first labor with Aelin."

"It was long; I was so exhausted by the end I could barely push when it came time. Other than that, and the incredible pain," she said with a soft laugh, "it was not so terrible. But not every elf I have ever encountered had such difficulty, Enguina. Perhaps your labor will be easy." Her voice was full of hope, but it was Enguina's turn to laugh.

"When has anything with me ever been easy, friend?"

She winced. "Hardly ever."

"Legolas will be with me, yes?"

Erumar nodded. "Though he may wish he was not, and you may wish him to leave at some time, which would not be surprising as most women do. Enguina, be prepared that Legolas will have a very difficult time seeing you suffer like that." She shrugged softly. "Women have been birthing babies since Creation, but men still seem to agonize over it. I suppose we cannot blame them."

"I already know Legolas can barely watch me in pain. Sometimes my nightmares were so terrible…" she drifted off, shaking her head. "I do not know what he will be like when I am in physical pain."

"He will be like a mother bear who has lost a cub," Erumar told her honestly. "You may want to kill him. Perhaps it _would_ be good for you to be in Minas Tirith—Aragorn could help control him."

Enguina laughed. "Oh, it will be so nice to see them together again." She sighed. "I miss him; Aragorn, I mean. He is such a good man. I remember, before I first met him, when Arwen first told me about him, and that she had said that all come to love him in their own way." She smiled. "I _do_ love him."

"As do I, very much," Erumar agreed. "He is humble and good, honest to a fault, yes…he was perfect for Arwen. I remember seeing them together in Lórien, walking; I remember how angry your brother was, warning her to stay away." She shook her head. "She could not, of course; she was so drawn to him." She looked over at Enguina again. "You mentioned before, your nightmares. You still have them, then."

"From time to time," she replied. "Thank Ilúvatar, but for the most part they do not haunt me as they once did. Legolas has chased the terrible memories of…him away." Still, after all this time, she did not like to say his name aloud. "No, I have not had many in the years we have been wed. Another blessing." She looked up at the sky. "It is not very late. I think we can travel at least another ten miles before dusk."

"Without stopping? I do not think that is such a—"

"We can trot a little while," Enguina stated, and as her friend began to protest, she held up a hand. "I will not be jarring anything, Erumar. I know how to take jumping position."

Erumar sighed, one of longsuffering. "Please, for my _sanity_ , Enguina. Can you not simply—"

"No."

She asked Lómë to trot off and he did so quite happily. Erumar grimaced, and asked Rûnving to follow her. "Not long, Enguina…all right?"

"Fine!"

Did she _ever_ listen? She could only wonder how Legolas could endure such an attitude every moment.

* * *

Arwen blinked, a gasp on her lips, her fingers gripping the sheet as a lifeline as she came awake so suddenly, sweat in her eyes. Attempting to slow her breathing, she propped herself on one elbow, trying to push aside the nightmare she had been having. She had not woken screaming, but she had been close. Her heart ached with remnant pain from the dream, nameless dread sweeping through her.

Oh, how had she known that she would never have escaped unscathed after Nardur's conversation? Her subconscious swimming with the words he had spoken, her dream had contained many things, but especially haunting was the featured presence of some faceless, dark-haired woman, her hands upon Aragorn…and the words she had _spoken_ …

She rolled over awkwardly, still shaken from the dream, looking blindly for Aragorn. Her hands found him, of course, and she pulled herself into his body, burying her face into the center of his chest. She clutched herself to him, even though the heat in the room was intense this summer night; he had come to bed last night without his tunic and every window was open for even the slightest breeze. Discovering her hands were trembling, and ignoring whether he was awake or not, she touched his skin, searching his upper body. She rubbed a hand along his ribs, his waist, just touching him, making sure he was there, that _this_ was real and not her nightmares. She pressed her lips to the center of his chest, holding the tears at bay by keeping her eyes tightly closed. She breathed in his scent so strongly that she could think of nothing else.

 _Ilúvatar, help me!_ _This is my beloved, Aragorn, Estel, the man who loves me, more than life, more than position, more than kings and kingdoms and…this is he…calm down and breathe, Arwen! It was not real. Not real…No! He loves me! He loves me, and me alone! He loves only me! Only me!_

But she could not force the feelings away, no matter her desperation, and she wanted to be reminded, _immediately_ , that he was _hers_ and that she was _his_ and that nothing was ever going to separate them…not _ever_. She knew the dream was not real, and she knew that this was not the right way to push it away, but a desire for him so great consumed her every thought, a desire for his affection, his passion, his love; a desire to give herself to him and remind him that she was his every moment and would be for the rest of her life. She was _driven_ into his embrace, wanting to be embraced as much as to embrace him, to never let him go.

She gasped back tears and pressed her lips to him again, hands gripping him. She felt his thumbs in her hair, sweeping back the sweaty strands and pulling it all back into a clump in one hand, allowing a little breeze to touch her back, cooling the moisture on her skin. She felt tension in his chest beneath her lips, knew he was raising his head to look into her face. There was something off, different, in the way she was touching him, driven by a need he would not understand as he had not seen her dream. But she opened her eyes and met his, leaving her lips pressing his chest again and again; her eyes held a volume of overwhelming emotions. Some he would grasp, some he would not, but there was no way she could have ever spoken of the dream to him. This was pure thought driven to action, desire.

There could be no questions, no answers, no speech at all in fact, and there could be no confusion of what it was she desperately wanted from him in that met her eyes and read all that he could in them, but fueled by her desire, even in the dead of night, gave all of himself to her without question or judgment.

* * *

Ethring walked down the back alley behind _The_ _Bouncing Barrel_. It was pitch dark, but it was the fastest way to return to their home, and he wanted to be back there as soon as possible. He was tired tonight, and he felt the stirrings of… _guilt…_ or something equally vulgar from an inappropriate action. It was like he had seen something he should not have seen…which was exactly how he should have felt.

He stopped short before the figure leaning against the wall in the alley.

"Well, Ethring?" asked Nardur. "I know where you came from."

It had been bad enough that he was stationed at the window that evening, never mind how pathetic it was that Nardur had been waiting for him as he headed home, or that it was necessary, or even _worse_ , that Nardur had found a perfect spot to spy on the King and Queen. What sort of arrogant bastard is so concerned about an heir that they send their friend to see if the words they had spoken would push the two of them to lie with one another? Ethring was at a point of disgust with this assignment, but he was extremely thankful that there was not a soul in Gondor who would have ever known what he had been doing in the Tower at this hour of night. No, it was on his conscience alone.

He looked into Nardur's face and frowned. "'Well' what?"

"What did you see?" he asked impatiently. "Why did you leave your post? Did you nod off?"

Ethring adjusted his shoulders back, no longer looking frustrated or tired but annoyed. "I am a soldier of Gondor. I do not 'nod off.'"

"Answer the question, please; then we can both go home to bed. _Intercourse_. Yes or no?"

He blushed at the word even though he should not have; he was ashamed about what he had seen from the window through his spyglass. Some things were meant to be private…he felt as though he had seen something that very few could ever have said they had and live to tell the tale. He felt as though he should punish himself…oh, if the King ever _knew…_

"When I left, yes, she was…" he stumbled on the words and cleared his throat self-consciously. "He was bedding her, yes. You were right."

Nardur gave a wicked smile. " _Excellent_. Talking with her moved the wheels. _She_ initiated, then, yes?" Ethring jerked his head. "I am glad my words had weight."

"She had a dream, I think."

"This is good. We will wear them out in one another's arms. If she is able to conceive, there will be no other result. If she cannot conceive, well…then we shall know the truth."

"That is providing she does not tell the King about your words in the morning," Ethring pointed out. He sighed. "I do not know, Nardur. This task you have set for yourself grows increasingly unpredictable."

"She will not," he said knowingly. "Not unless he asks her outright about me, and he would not know to do that as he does not suspect a thing at the moment. No, she will keep my words to herself, trying to be strong, to rise above. But in the darkness, Ethring, the foul things catch up to you." He laughed softly. "This is excellent news."

"If she ever tells him the truth, you will be in the stocks before morning," Ethring pointed out. "As it was, I think it was a terrible nightmare. If she has more, he is bound to find out. Nardur, if the King ever learns—"

"Indeed," he replied thoughtfully. "One cannot push too hard, or we shall be discovered. A nightmare, you say?" He raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin. "Yes, she has many fears, the Queen. She feels as much guilt over being unable to produce a child as she has desire to produce one. It was the perfect conversation to have with her yesterday, she simply does not know it yet."

"Perhaps that means she will be easier to influence than him; guilt, sorrow, agony…all these things she must have been or will be experiencing." He crossed his arms and looked thoughtfully at Nardur. "If it turns out that she _is_ in fact, barren, perhaps you could eventually talk her into making a suggestion to Elessar that he _should_ take a mistress. If she has enough guilt, as you say, perhaps she would make the sacrifice herself. It would probably kill her," he admitted, "if all they say about elves is true."

"I like the way you think sometimes, Ethring. That is an excellent thought, but it would have to be planned _very_ carefully. Vändir made such a foolish choice and then lost his position for it. Though," he sighed, "to make certain Gondor is preserved, I may have to resort to difficult measures. For the glory and safety of the Reunited Kingdom, I would do it…whatever must be done."

Ethring nodded. "I…agree."

"So you will continue to go?"

He sighed and looked away. "Yes…an heir is necessary to Gondor. I know that, Nardur, but this is difficult."

Nardur reached out and clasped Ethring's shoulder. "You are the man for this duty, and you are my friend. I know it is difficult for you, but you are a soldier of Gondor and you stand your ground. This is thankless work." He released him. "Go on home to your wife."

He bowed his head. "Good evening, Nardur."


	7. Chapter 7

Standing within the doorway, Arwen leaned her shoulder against the porch frame. She had been completely silent as she had pulled on her robe and then moved out of their bedroom to find him, feet bare upon the wooden floor. She watched him as he leaned there on the porch rail, looking down over the City, his shoulders a bit hunched. He had bathed already and was ready for the day, but he seemed wearier to her than he had in months. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way he leaned on the rail, the way he looked out without truly seeing. She knew it was because of _her._

She hung her head, her eyes squeezing closed, her hands holding the front of her robe over her breast. She was so full of _shame_. How could she even look in his eyes? She would never be able to describe that dream, would never be able to admit what had happened in it, what it would be like to see him like _that_ with someone else and how it had made her feel.

Straightening, she turned to go inside but then her feet stilled and she stood, half-in and half-out of the doorway in her indecision. She wanted desperately to go to him, yet so ashamed of what she had done, what she had asked of him and how. They had barely spoken last night; they _always_ spoke, or teased one another, or spoke in low voices and love talk…but last night was nothing like that.

Guilt poured through her heart. She was _ashamed_ of the way she had come to him last night; even more so of the _reason_ she had come. She had used him to chase away the dream, to feel him, to know he was hers…and she was flooded with shame. Exhausting him had not been her aim; what had she been _thinking_ , to come to him like that in the middle of the night when he needed his rest? She closed her eyes and bit her lip to prevent the tears from falling. Their love-making had not been slow either; it had been intense and focused, driven by her need for him, her desire to please him so that her dream would never be real. _She_ loved him; _she_ made him happy; _she_ made him feel wanted, desired, full of pleasure… _she_ did. _No one else!_ Was that _wrong?_

 _Yes_ … _for why you did it._ She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to contain her tears. _Ilúvatar, help me…_ Turning back, she crossed the distance to him, silent as a wraith; he still had not yet turned. She did not know if that was because he knew she was there or he did _not_ know she was there. Either way, she did not wait to find out. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head upon his back, pressing her body to his. Neither of them spoke at first; they simply stood in silence, him leaning on the rail, her leaning against him.

Finally, he attempted to turn, but she held fast, crowding against him much too closely to make room for him to move in her arms. She felt him lift a hand from the rail and lay it over hers, running it gently, to and fro along her arm. Not knowing what to say, not knowing where to begin, she remained silent.

"Beloved," he began, his voice low, soothing, "you are in such distress; your thoughts are so troubled. Tell me." He felt her breath catch. "Beloved, tell me."

The tears came and she clenched her eyes shut again. Her voice was so quiet. "You are so tired today. So… _exhausted_."

"It is nothing," he said gently. "This is a good weariness; I am glad for it."

"I…" she tried, and one tear slipped out and made its way down her face. "Oh, Estel, forgive me. Please… _please_ forgive me for last night. I was…I was so _wrong_ …" He felt her shame pour through their bond and tried to turn again, yet again she held fast. " _Please…I cannot look in your eyes!_ " she whispered brokenly, beginning to tremble.

"Arwen, Arwen…" His voice was so full of concern, and he rubbed his hand along her arm again, "what is the matter? What—"

"The way I woke you," she continued, hot tears coming now, "came on to you, so…so…" She could not finish; she could not tell him why.

"There is nothing to forgive," he said seriously. "I will not forgive you for that."

"Estel…" she began, and then the words came tumbling out of her mouth, unbidden, unwanted; they gave too much away, " _do I make you happy? Do I please you?_ "

His other hand came up and he broke her grip on him, turning around and holding her wrists as she tried to pull away from him, her head down and turned aside, her face in shadow.

" _Please_ me?" he quoted her, shocked at the words, his face so concerned though she could not see. "My darling, there would never be anyone who makes me happier. _Never_. _No one_ , _nothing_ , could please me more, not _ever_. May Ilúvatar strike me if I speak anything that is untrue!" He released her wrists and cupped his hands around her face. "Arwen, what has happened? Why ask such a question?" Her hands gripped his wrists, tears on her face, but she still could not look at him. "Do you not know how I feel? How you _make_ me feel?" She leaned forward, and he let her lower her face to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held her so tight. "Do not be ashamed about what you felt last night. Please, Arwen, beloved…there is no shame in it. We are husband and wife; I love and adore you. By Elbereth, if you asked me to give myself to you again right now, I would. Please, I beg you, tell me what the matter is."

But she could not say; if she told him what had been said, what had been really troubling her…no, she could not. Did Nardur not tell her there was no shame in desiring one's husband? But was this not different? Was this not her reacting to her fears? Was that still natural? _Ilúvatar_ , _please…_ She did not know, but how could she ask?

"I cannot explain," she whispered, her voice breaking again. She felt his hand upon her face, trying to calm her tears. "Please, I cannot explain. Please…forgive me…you were so tired…and I…I wanted to please you, but I should…I should have just-"

"Oh, beloved," he told her, kissing the top of her head, "you pleased me. Do not question it; do you not know what I felt last night? I was…" He struggled with the memory of it, to put it into words. "I was on fire beneath the heat, the pleasure, of your touch, your desire. Ilúvatar, Arwen…look at me, _please_." He cupped his hand around her face, lifting her eyes; she had no choice but to look into the grey pools full of concern for her. "There is no shame in your desire for me; I am your husband, and I love you."

She covered his hand with hers and pressed her lips to his palm, tears still coming as she closed her eyes again. He rested his other hand on her lower back, rubbing gently against her robe. A suspicion was growing in his mind: she was not ashamed because of _what_ she had done; her shame came from something else… _why_ she had done it.

"Last night," he whispered, and she shook her head tightly, even though he had barely said anything. "It was a nightmare, was it not?" She shook her head into his hand even more violently. "Arwen, tell me—"

" _Please_ …" she begged him, " _I cannot, Estel._ "

Oh, how he wanted to push and press and prod until she divulged every last detail of what had happened within her dream, what was assaulting her so acutely. He could only guess at what her nightmare had contained that would push her to seek the safety of his embrace as she had last night, and would drive her to give him pleasure as she had so attentively sought. If he could not convince her to tell him the truth, he would change the subject a little.

"You are in pain today," he said gently, knowingly. "I can feel it."

"I know…"

"You were so insistent; I could not slow you down, not even a little…you would not allow me." She had ignored him last night and his caution; she had blown by it and done what she thought would please him instead. There was no doubt that she had, but at a cost to herself. She shook her head, looking back up into his eyes; he knew that she was agreeing with him. He bent his head and kissed her forehead, then rested his forehead upon hers. "Do not doubt me, beloved. Please…not ever. Did we not declare ourselves again on Midsummer's Day?"

He was expecting an answer, and she knew it. "Yes," she whispered.

"Did we not love one another in that grass beneath the tree all day long?"

"Yes."

"Did I not tell you how much I desired you," he murmured, in that low, loving voice that he had, "how I would never get enough of you against me? How I wish we could have stayed there for hours upon hours, so I could simply stare into your eyes? How I would have made love with you at least once more before we left, just so I could hold you close again?"

She choked on her tears. "Yes, yes…yes… _yes_."

He lifted his head and tipped her chin as she opened her eyes. "Do not ever doubt my love for you, how happy you make me, how desperately I need you to be with me always. You _know_ …"

" _I do,_ " she whispered.

"All you need do is reach for me," he said in the same soft tone. "Just touch my mind once; you will know my heart. Last night you knew it; you felt how I felt." She swallowed hard.

"I love you," she told him.

"More than your life," he added, "just as I do you. I would give all of it away, you know…live in a cave in the woods on nothing for the rest of my life as long as I could be with you." He looked at her seriously, passionately. "Let my love be stronger than whatever you dream. Let my love be stronger than any doubt that is trying to take hold in you. I adore and cherish you, with everything I am. Since I was twenty years old, Arwen, I have loved you every moment of my life."

 _This is my beloved, Aragorn, Estel, the man who loves me more than life, more than position, more than kings and kingdoms. This is he_.

She shook her head and swore to him, " _I will not doubt you…never, ever again_."

* * *

Great torches were hung all around on the walls, lighting the beautiful caverns below the mountains behind Helm's Deep. This was a celebration of Legolas and his kin tonight, though Legolas was the only elf present, and the dwarves had pulled out every barrel and tankard they had. They enjoyed a good party, and this one was no exception, and many of them had quite a bit too much. In fact, almost all of them had except Gimli who still remained quite sober so that he could talk with Legolas and clearly hand off far too many gifts.

"Now," the dwarf said, "I want you to take home some of this ale with you. You know you've enjoyed it while you were here, and you're enjoying it tonight. So, you're going to take some with you."

"Gimli, you must be _mad_ ," Legolas said, rolling his eyes. "I could not possibly bring any bottles or jugs home with me; Brethil cannot carry these things _and_ myself! You have already given me four dresses for Guin, the last of which the ladies are still making, several outfits for the baby—"

"Fit for a pointy-eared Elvish Princeling!" Gimli interrupted, laughing loudly.

"—a box of sticky, sugary," he fumbled over the words, unable to remember what the dwarf had called them, " _twisted_ _things_ that are going to moldinto a block before I get them home in this heat. You then gave me several things hand-crafted for the walls of my house, which I continue to explain are _not_ as barren as you seem to believe they are—"

"There is _always_ room to hang heirlooms on the walls!" Gimli insisted. "And you can't leave until the smiths are finished with the engraving for your room with the crest they've made based on your father's in Mirkwood. You shot that stag yourself not a week ago, and the antlers have yet to be mounted!"

"Ai, Elbereth," Legolas sighed in frustration. "Gimli, how am I going to get _that_ back to Ithilien?" he asked incredulously. "Brethil does not have a back the size of a cart!"

"Oh, didn't I say?" he said, looking confused. "Ah well! We're sending you back with a cart full of other assorted goods for your kin in Ithilien, _and_ a rather large box of jewels and precious stones that we've mined from one of the caverns here. Plenty more where _that_ came from, if I do say so myself."

Legolas stared at him. "Brethil cannot pull a cart, my friend."

"Oh no, no. Of course not!" he laughed. "You'll have two of our finest mountain goats for that! When you get to Ithilien you're just going to release them; they'll make their way back here in no time without a worry."

"Gimli," Legolas said, shaking his head, "I cannot accept all these gifts! No, I cannot."

"It's just a small cart, ya ungrateful elf!" he growled. "And you'll accept it just fine." He hit himself in the chest. "I'm the Lord of the Glittering Caves, Lord of Aglarond, and you'll do as I say!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "You have resorted to calling on your title to make me feel guilty?"

"If I want to make you gifts, elf, I will. And I'm not through yet, either. I've got one more—one of the best of our little mountain ponies. She'll be a perfect mount for your little one as she ages; she's about three years old, but she's a shaggy, stout little thing that hasn't quite grown into her body yet. She's going to be a bit bigger than most of the other's we've got around here, so she'll be good for him or her until they're big enough to ride a full-horse. Radost's her name." He stared Legolas down. "And you're taking her with you, and there won't be anything for you to say about it because—"

Legolas held up his hands. "I am through with convincing you otherwise. I will take whatever you wish to give, friend Gimli…but you are far, far too generous."

" _And_ there's still have one more thing I want to have the leather-workers make for Enguina before you leave. I want to make her a decent sheath for that knife you gave her; she's got one but it doesn't fit in it that well. This way, she can have something from _me_ , too."

Legolas shook his head, but smiled, reaching out to lay his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thank you for thinking of us as you do. You are too good of a friend." He sighed. "When Guin sees all of these things, she is going to scold me for accepting them."

"You can tell her I threatened your life," Gimli said gruffly, but with a hint of a smile. "And I wouldn't let you leave until you agreed to take them; yes, that'll work on her! That way, in order to get home to her, you _had_ to take them. Yes, that's good."

The dwarf was called by some of his comrades for a moment and Legolas sat there looking at him. His great friend had become a good Lord over his kin, and a good leader under these White Mountains. Being with him now, he could not imagine what it would be like to leave in a few weeks; he was going to miss him terribly. How he wished they could all be together again in Minas Tirith, even in the state of happiness he currently found himself. He wanted all of his family together—yet that could not be. He was meant to be in Ithilien now with Enguina, as Gimli was to be here, Aragorn was to be in Minas Tirith, and his father was to be in Mirkwood. Yes, they were apart, but at least they were all safe and leading good lives. He thought of Enguina and her smile, and the wonderful five month swell of her belly that would greet him when he returned home.

His friends were happy, and so was he. There was not much more he could ask for.

* * *

Erumar sat near their campfire, Enguina lying on her side on her sleeping mat nearby, her hands curled up beneath her chin, her back to the fire. She had been exhausted when she had lain down there, and had been fast asleep for over three hours now. This would be one of their last nights in the Wilds of Ithilien, but Enguina had been right: it had been a beautiful and quiet journey. The two of them were camped near the Anduin tonight. When they had made the crossing, the current had been swift and Rûnving had been ready to give flight. Erumar had coaxed her as close to Lómë as possible and Enguina had trusted the black to get all four of them across safely. She had been very grateful, keeping her eyes closed for long stretches of time.

Upon reaching the other side, Enguina had burst into tears, hugging Lómë's neck and Erumar had wondered at her until she had explained that her fear of water had increased about a thousand-fold after Legolas's kidnapping three years ago. She would not tell the story at all, but Erumar could easily tell it had greatly affected her. It had been getting onward to dusk, and so she had suggested stopping, and, as they were already wet and hot, she thought perhaps they should bathe in the shallows while they had the chance.

She rose, watching Enguina in the firelight, and leaned down beside her to stretch out her wet hair behind her so it would dry more quickly. She did not think Enguina would catch a chill, but she did want her to be content and get a good night's sleep. She smoothed her hand against her hair and then reached down to pull the little blanket she had brought over her. Standing, Erumar went back to her seat by the fire and watched her.

 _You should be asleep as well, Erumar. It has been a long few days of riding. You are grateful to be here with Enguina, but still you think she should be at home._ She sighed. _But you are grateful that she made the decision to see Arwen because you miss them just as she does. Living in Minas Tirith during that time was busy…and that business was soothing. Then the business with building their home was soothing. Now…you do not have enough to occupy your thoughts. Too many thoughts about the past and Haldir…too many thoughts about the future and Thranduil…why must you think so much?_

Haldir was gone, yet she loved him still. The pain in her heart, her grief at times, was overwhelming. She looked down at her fingers and rubbed them against one another, thinking of what she had done to them, how Enguina had found her that night. One moment she had been staring into the fire, and the next…she had been silently crying as her flesh had cooked over it. She did not even have time to feel ashamed over what had happened with how Enguina had reacted; she had been so angry. She had been angry the other evening, too, when she had cut her fingers, though Enguina had handled that a bit better, not at all like the other time in Lórien when Enguina had found her abusing the skin between her fingers. But over the many times that Enguina had discovered her trying to take her own life, something had _always_ interfered. Ilúvatar was not allowing her to die because she had lost Haldir, and she could not understand why.

The vision of Thranduil thrusting its way into her head was too difficult to ignore anymore. She _had_ enjoyed spending time with him, getting to know him, and that thought would have made her smile if not for the weight hanging over her. She was a _widow_ ; was it right to think of another man the way she had thought about Haldir? Was it right, if it were to happen, to fall in love with someone else, when she had sworn to give herself only to Haldir, love only him? Would he have wanted her to find someone else to take happiness in, or would he have expected her to join him in death? Did he still? She could not travel to Eryn Lasgalen and not have this set in her heart; she could not accept Thranduil's invitation to see him there if he had dreams that she could never make reality. She would never do that to him, give him hope where there was none.

Soft muttering began to break through her troubled thoughts, and she turned away from the fire to look at Enguina's back. She must have been dreaming and talking in her sleep, but Erumar tried not to hear what she was saying. She felt like she was prying, especially if the dream was like the others, about loving Legolas. Such things were not for her ears. She looked back into the fire and after a few moments heard a squeak, like the sound of a cry being silenced. Once again, she looked to Enguina and after studying her form for a few moments, realized that her shoulders were trembling. Immediately, she stood, and went to her side—this was not a dream, it was a nightmare.

She recognized them, of course. For years, Enguina had suffered them, off and on, when she slept. Erumar knew very well that some were worse than others; she did not know what to expect with this one. She had not seen or heard Enguina have a nightmare since the time she had left Lórien. Enguina would never tell her anything that went on in them, but she knew what was happening.

" _No…_ "

It was the first clear word that Enguina had spoken as Erumar reached her and knelt at her side. When she took her arm in her hand, she saw Enguina's nails scratching along her wrist, digging over and over again in the same place.

"Enguina, _no_ ," she said firmly, and reached over, catching her wrists in her hands. She pulled her hands apart and bumped her in the back with her hip. "Wake up." She spoke in the same voice, firm but not loud. Enguina's head tossed once, twice, in response, but she did not wake. She began to yank back against Erumar, and the other elf grew afraid. What if she could not wake her and she hurt herself, or the baby?

She released Enguina's hands and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her forcefully. "Enguina! You have to wake up, _now_! It is nothing but a dream! Wake—"

Enguina's eyes blinked rapidly, but her eyes did not clear, and she reacted violently to having Erumar perched over her, shaking her urgently. Crying out and startling her friend, Enguina threw her hands up, tearing at Erumar's face to get her back, not recognizing her even for a second. As Enguina clawed her from throat to chin, Erumar flung her head back, gasping in pain as she released her shoulders. Enguina attempted to roll forward, and her elbow roughly caught Erumar in the ribs to push her off completely. Erumar, who had been completely unprepared for such a blow, fell back near the fire, gasping for breath and holding her side.

Blinking, Enguina tried to collect her wits and escape from the dream. She leaned forward on her hands and choked back tears, muttering _no_ over and over to herself. She felt something press against her stomach, quick and short. Her hand shot down to push it away and it fell across the swelling of her belly—her baby. It was that sudden realization that made her recognize that she was dreaming.

 _You are with child…the dream was not real…this is Legolas's child…he is not real…he cannot hurt you anymore…you are protected…you are safe, loved…those were not his hands…they were your imagination…calm down…breathe…breathe…_ She breathed through her nose and out through her mouth, controlling the inevitable urge to lose everything she had for dinner. The tears came as they always did, unbidden but expected. She lowered her head, resting all her weight on her hands as she leaned forward, still taking deep breaths. _Oh Ilúvatar…protect me! Legolas is not here!_ It was the first time in three years she had a nightmare without him to hold her. The thought choked her, and she let out a sob.

"Enguina?"

She startled, having completely forgotten where she was. Hearing Erumar's voice brought it back to her—she was not in her own bed, she was in the wilds of Ithilien, traveling to Minas Tirith with her friend. She felt Erumar's hand on her back; a soft, hesitant touch, nothing like _his_ hands. Then it was the woman's whole arm being wrapped around and over her shoulders.

"By Elbereth, are you all right?" Erumar asked, resting her head against Enguina's.

Enguina shook her head, unable to respond verbally. Instead, she sat herself up just enough to bury her face into Erumar's neck and begin crying intensely. She could not hold it back; she never could.

"Shh…" Erumar whispered, holding her tightly with one arm. "It was just a dream…only a dream…you are safe…" Those whispered words kept coming, falling on Enguina's ears, helping to soothe her, draw her away from the awful memories that tried to keep coming. She was so grateful that Erumar was with her; more grateful in that moment than she ever could have explained. If she could not have Legolas, at least she was not alone. _Thank you, Ilúvatar_.

Time passed; Enguina was not sure how long, but the fire had died low. When she finally pulled herself out of the dream-induced stupor, she raised her hands to wipe her face, feeling Erumar's hand in her hair, stroking it gently. She was a little calmer now, but it was not easy to remain that way. The smallest thought could send her back into tears.

"Forgive me," she whispered, her throat tight.

"I have…not seen you have a night terror in—"

"Years."

"Yes," Erumar admitted quietly. "Are you going to be all right?"

Enguina nodded slowly. "I think so," she replied thickly. "Your comfort is what I needed. Thank you, Erumar."

"I was so worried you would hurt yourself or the baby. You cut your wrist." Enguina looked down at it and saw the scratches, places where the rope would have been; just as she had tried to tear them off in real life, so she had tried to do in her dream. She winced, the very thought painful. "Can you tell me what…what brought on this dream?"

Erumar's question was an attempt to understand not an attempt to pry, but Enguina was unsure if she could explain, even if she wanted to. "It…it was the water, I think."

"The water?" Erumar questioned, confused, stroking her fingers through her hair again. It was the perfect thing to continue to soothe her; Erumar would never have known, but one of the things Legolas was prone to doing was brushing her hair for her. He loved it; so did she. If he was not brushing it, he was running his hands through it. It was the perfect peacemaker after a dream like this. "What happened that made you so afraid of the water?"

"Cruel men…nearly drowned me in it," she whispered, her eyes closing as she remembered. "It was _awful_. There were three of them, burly, and they…they had their hands on me…and they were shoving me around in the water." She trembled forcefully, and Enguina felt Erumar's elbow tighten against her. "They kept pushing and I went under and…nearly drowned."

"It would be no wonder that you are afraid," Erumar replied compassionately. "When—"

"Three years ago, just before the wedding, Legolas was taken by a group of men trying to ransom him to his father," she tried to explain. "It…was the most terrifying experience of…my life."

Erumar pressed her cheek to her hair again. "Was your dream about the water?"

Enguina hesitated. "No," she whispered.

"I remember Lothlórien," Erumar spoke softly, and Enguina fell silent. "I remember the dreams you used to have. For years, they plagued you. I thought perhaps they…had stopped with Legolas."

"I am afraid not," she replied quietly. "Sometimes they are worse than ever, though Legolas helps immensely to subdue them. I did not trust him before, but now he is one of the shields between me and the darkness." Enguina sighed ever-so-softly, tears springing back to her eyes. "I wish he were here now."

"I am so sorry," Erumar whispered, pressing her lips to her hair.

"I am grateful that _you_ are here," Enguina mumbled. "I did not mean it that way."

"My arms are not his," she added knowingly; she had not been offended. "Enguina, why were you scratching at your skin?" Her voice was quiet, and Enguina struggled to answer. Erumar knew she did not want to. "It...it has been so many years; can you not speak of it?"

"I do not… _know_ how far I can get." She lifted her head and looked into Erumar's eyes. "I do not know what I can tell and what I can—" Her voice cut off as she saw Erumar holding her hand beneath her chin. Enguina swallowed. "What did I do to you?" she asked, her voice resigned.

"It was my fault; I should have been more careful," Erumar admitted. "I should have remembered what your dreams were like sometimes." Enguina reached up and pulled Erumar's hand back and covered her mouth with the other. "It is not so bad, Enguina."

"You look like you were slashed by a wild animal," she muttered.

"Oh stop," she shushed her. "It is just a scratch. Let me get some water; yours needs to be wrapped."

Within a few minutes, Erumar was tending to the furrows on Enguina's wrists as Enguina held a wet cloth to Erumar's chin. Enguina had apologized again, but Erumar simply shook her head. "Tell me why you were scratching yourself," she asked, and Enguina's eyes lowered to her hand and there they stayed instead of Erumar's face.

"It was because I…was restrained there. In my dream," she said with difficulty, "I was trying to claw away the ropes that bound me. It did not work then…it did not work in my dream either."

Erumar hesitated. "Enguina…do these dreams still focus on—"

"Yes," she said bitterly, "they are _always_ about him."

"Why?" she asked softly. "You never—"

"I could not tell you," she choked out. "I could never tell anyone the truth about what happened between him and myself. No one knew the full truth of it…none save Arwen and Sheran, the Healer…though even she only knew the diagnosis, not the tale. More recently, my dreams have changed and adapted to the events that happened before I wed Legolas. _He_ was the leader of the band when he was taken."

Erumar's hands stilled as she stared at her, dumbstruck. _"What?!"_

"I know that it seems incredible," she said, still talking to Erumar's hand.

"I…I thought he was _dead_. It has been so many years—"

"No…he was always out there…biding his time, I suppose," she whispered.

"Oh, Enguina…" Erumar said sadly, "why…why were you bound?"

She sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to collect herself to even tell part of the story. "He wanted me," she whispered, "in that way a man desires a woman, only to abuse her for his purpose. It was all he had ever wanted; even in Lórien, so many years ago, when he had asked me to wed him…all he had ever truly wanted was to take me, to use me, for me to give myself to him."

Erumar stared at her, and one of hers slipped into Enguina's, stopping work on wrapping her wrist altogether. "I…I had no idea. I did not know he was so despicable; he had been one of Haldir's closest friends, a friend of our family." She was horrified. "I knew he had hurt you physically…"

"Oh…this was far beyond that," she said, letting tears slip down her face. She felt one of Erumar's hands reach up to wipe them gently away. "For years, I bore the burden of knowing what he had done to me and I suffered ceaselessly for it. I felt…unloved, unwanted…abandoned by Ilúvatar, as though I would never be happy, and could never be whole again. Do you remember all those times when I could not stand to be alone, and yet you did not know why? Why I would never be without one of you, never be alone with a man in the same room?" Her eyes closed as she sighed painfully, remembering. "Erumar, he had not only abused me…he had nearly completed the act there in Lórien that morning."

Erumar gasped. "He had…he had nearly taken you?"

"He…just never finished," she whispered brokenly. "He was so, so close…"

"What stopped him?" Erumar questioned her. "How did you—"

"Arwen discovered him…and threatened his life."

"I knew she had found you, was wounded herself but the extent of what had happened…I had no idea. Not even the Lady had told us."

"Haldir hunted him that day, but he could not be found. When he came again, when he discovered it was me…" her voice drifted off at the agonizing memory. "He tried to take me again, but this time in front of him…in front of _Legolas_." Her throat was so tight now, she could not have continued if she wanted to.

Erumar stared at her, absolutely horrified. "Oh, Eru, Enguina…why, oh, why did you never tell me what had happened to you? I…never knew that he had, that he had _touched_ you that way! Oh, how wicked and evil he was! I wish Haldir had caught him and killed him—"

"He is dead now," Enguina forced out, swallowing hard. "Arwen ended his life."

"Thank Eru," Erumar whispered, resting her head against Enguina's, tears in her own eyes. "All these years…oh, how I wish you had _told_ me. I could have been praying for you so differently all this time. All those times, all those dreams…I only wish I could have helped you more than I did."

"I…needed to heal," Enguina said, "and it was difficult, and terrifying…especially when I had to tell Legolas the truth about everything. I…never felt pure for him." The last words she forced out. "After all _he_ had done, there were moments I could not look in the mirror without seeing the scars and feeling the pain. Sometimes, when the nightmare returns, it is so hard to beat back." She finally lifted her head to look into Erumar's face. "That is why I am so grateful you were here with me. And…I _am_ sorry that I could never tell you the truth. I could have never faced it before…I could never have faced it without his love. Knowing that Ilúvatar gave me someone who would love me…in spite of being so broken and used. I did not know love could be like that."

"Legolas fell in love with you, even when you were not whole," Erumar said softly. "But you did not _give_ yourself to _him_ , Enguina. You—"

"I know that now," she whispered. "But…it was so hard, then, to think of what had happened in that light, and not blame myself in some way. I did not feel that I deserved to be loved, Erumar." She laughed brokenly, as Erumar wiped another tear from her face. "Sometimes, I lie awake at night and simply _stare_ at Legolas's face while he is asleep, wondering how in the world I was so blessed by him. Ilúvatar…works purposes that I do not understand."

"No, indeed," Erumar said softly. "We cannot understand them." She kissed Enguina's head again, and then reached down and finished wrapping her wrist. "Thank you…for sharing your sufferings with me, even after all this time." She lifted her eyes and gave her a gentle, compassionate smile. "I love you so much, Enguina; I hate to see you hurting."

"One of the things I have always loved about you, Erumar," she said softly, "is your ability to feel compassion, to heal and think of others in such a loving and thoughtful way. In Lórien, you always knew what was happening with everyone, and found a way to reach out to them in some way, even if it was so small. Sometimes, just sitting with me when I needed a friend was enough."

Erumar looked away. "I…feel as though I have not been that person in so long, I do not remember who she is." The words were honest, and full of a world of suffering.

"Suffering changes us," Enguina said gently. "I know that more than most. Someday, you will be that person again. You just need time, Erumar. You need time to…discern how to live in the wake of the storm that you survived." She reached out, drawing the towel away from Erumar's chin and tugged her friend until she looked at her. "Maybe, one day, you and I can talk about _your_ dreams…and perhaps you can take some peace from the telling as well. I am grateful that you finally know. A weight has been lifted from my heart; now you understand."

Erumar's eyes grew misty, but she did not shake her head. "Enguina, I know you…lost him, too…but…"

"It is not the same, is it?" she whispered, and Erumar shook her head.

"I do not think so," she replied, her voice cutting out at the end. She swallowed. "Perhaps, someday, I will try, but…"

"Not tonight."

"No…I do not think speaking of him in the darkness would ease me at all."

"No," Enguina said ruefully, "I suppose not." She cupped her hands around Erumar's face. "I will always be here, you know. To listen. Just as you did for me."

"Thank you," she said, and Enguina watched her lips tremble once before Erumar gathered her emotions once more under control. "I know I have not always wanted you, Enguina…and that was wrong. I have made so many mistakes in the last few years. I wish I could right them all with an apology but…it is not enough."

"Do not speak of the past that way, Erumar," she replied softly. "We are sisters, and so we shall remain. Forget what happened, forget the past…let us look ahead." Erumar nodded slowly. "Now, let me see about this terrible rent I made in your skin." And with that, Enguina leaned forward to smooth salve on her throat.


	8. Chapter 8

Arwen did not spend much time on the third level of Minas Tirith. It was not that she did not like it, but her meanderings did not often draw her there. She had discovered that one of the families who had lost their homes to the fire on the fourth level was now living here instead, and as she had become close with their children when Legolas had rescued their father from the flames, she had descended to visit them. The people on the streets were pleased to see her, and she spoke with many of them on her way. After her visit, she had begun making the long way back to the Citadel, stopping along the way at several merchants and to taste some pecans from a seller who would not allow her to leave without trying them. As she rounded the stall and headed for the archway to the fourth level, she noticed Hildanir, dressed in a blue tunic, standing nearby. She smiled; he had been so helpful the other day, and had always shown her and everyone she had ever seen him with such kindness. She was glad that he was a soldier of Gondor, though at the moment he was clearly not on duty.

"My Lord Hildanir," she said smiling, as she drew close, and he turned immediately from the stall to face her. He grinned, bowing at the waist to her.

"My Lady," he replied, straightening, "what brings you all the way to the third level today? Did you bring Asfaloth with you?" He glanced around.

"I _can_ walk, Hildanir," she chided him. "I do enjoy it. I was visiting Fastred and Holma; their children know me quite well."

He smiled, nodding. "Oh, of course, they moved down to the third level. I remember them." He glanced around again. "Are you alone?" he asked, confused and frowning. "You should—"

"I did not expect to see you," Arwen interrupted. "And do not _fret_ ; I know my way around just fine. I did not know you were not on task with the guard today."

"Yes, every once in a while one does receive a leave, though I do not usually take them," he stated, but then he smiled sheepishly, blushing. "In fact, I was happy to take it today for—"

"Hildanir, who're you speaking with?"

Around the edge of the stand came a pretty, freckle-faced, fire-haired girl, her locks long and curly wearing a long blue dress. She was nearly as tall as Hildanir, though she appeared to only be about twenty. Arwen could only assume that _this_ was the apothecary's daughter Aragorn had spoken of to her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, curtseying to Arwen. "I'd no idea it was you, my Lady."

"My Lady, please let me introduce Trena," Hildanir said, blushing uncontrollably. Arwen told herself that she would try to make it a point not to embarrass him further. His _ears_ were pink.

"I have heard so much about you," she said to her, smiling. "It is my pleasure." She extended her hand and Trena took it.

"When Hildanir told me he knew you quite well, I didn't believe him," she laughed honestly. "I told him I thought he was making up tales. Clearly, he doesn't exaggerate!"

"No," Arwen agreed, "he is one of the most honest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. The King celebrates honesty in his soldiers and the Lieutenant is no exception."

"Of course the King would," she said with another laugh. "And so handsome! I told Hildanir that I'd love to meet him face-to-face someday." She leaned in close as if they were conspirators. "I asked him if he could make that happen."

 _Oh dear…_ Arwen gave her a wry smile, though it appeared authentic to Trena. "I am sure the King would be happy to meet you." She glanced up at Hildanir. "That would not be difficult to arrange."

Her face was so bright, she was the sun. "That's so kind of you, my Lady. _Thank_ you!"

Hildanir bowed his head to Arwen, clearly embarrassed by Trena's request, though Arwen did not appear to think anything more of it. "I am sure the Lady has many places to go," he interrupted softly. "Perhaps we should leave her to her duties."

"We're just about to turn back; perhaps the Queen was going back up through the City," offered Trena. "If so, she'd be more than welcome to walk with us a little while."

"I could walk with you a way," Arwen replied. "I am to see Briton, the shepherd, and his family, on the fifth level." They began walking, Trena's arm wrapped through Hildanir's as Arwen followed a pace away from them, nodding and smiling to others as they continued on to the fourth level.

"The City's never had a Queen, or a King, who spent so much time among their people," Trena said, and then laughed. "Or at least, that's what my grandparents' say. Though Finduilas was much loved here, she wasn't the wife of the Steward for long before her passing; my grandparents loved her very much."

"Prince Faramir painted a lovely picture of her when he described her to me," Arwen replied. "Trena, if I am correct, your father is an apothecary, yes?"

"That's correct, my Lady, on the third level," she said, and then continued proudly, "My family's been part of the apothecary for seven generations, and in all that time we've been able to help many people. We've all sorts of herbs and spices, and our shop only supplies almost everything they use in the Houses of Healing."

"How wonderful that your family has helped so many people over such a span of time," Arwen said with a smile. Trena went on for another moment, Hildanir rolling his eyes over her head, but with good-humor. Suddenly, a little girl of four with a bouquet of flowers ran up to Arwen and wrapped her arms around her legs, halting their progress.

Arwen laughed, delighted, and reached down, scooping her up into her arms. "Oh, lovely one, are these flowers for me?" The girl held them out to her as Hildanir and Trena looked on, and the elf smelled them. "They are _beautiful_."

"Oh, forgive me, milady," puffed the girl's mother, as she came towards them to collect her daughter. "Whenever she sees you she simply has to give you flowers!"

Arwen smiled and kissed the little girl's cheek. "Thank you, Paden." She lowered her to the stone street and looked to her very pregnant mother. "May I extend a blessing on you, Sera? I had no idea you were so far along."

"Thank you so much, milady," she laughed, taking Paden's hand. "Not more than another week or so, I hope." She let out a breath and shook her head, laying her other hand on her belly. "It's already been too long, this one. Must be a boy!"

Arwen laughed. "We had been away so long in Dol Amroth that I forgot you were having another child!" Sera glanced at the two people beside her, and Arwen felt inclined to make presentations. "May I introduce Lieutenant Hildanir and Trena? They are friends of mine." She turned to them. "Sera and her family are close to the King's heart."

"Oh, bless you, milady," she replied, blushing.

"May Ilúvatar smile on your new little one," Trena said as Hildanir bowed to her. "I hope the labor will go smoothly for you."

Sera smiled. "It will, I'm sure, but thank you for your kindness. Enjoy this summer's day!"

"I will come and visit soon," Arwen promised, smiling, holding her flowers and waving at Paden.

"We'll expect you, milady," she replied, bowing her head with another smile. "Good day, all of you." And then Paden was tugging her down the street as the trio headed the opposite direction, onward to the fifth level. Arwen lifted the flowers to her nose and breathed deeply.

"The little one's so darling," said Trena, and Hildanir nodded as she watched Arwen.

"There are so many good families in Gondor," he added, and Arwen smiled.

"That is very true, Hildanir," she agreed, and she noticed that the two of them were beginning to slow down. It was time for them to part ways, as they had reached Trena's home. "Thank you for letting me walk with you both. It was nice to finally meet you, Trena," Arwen said cordially.

The apothecary's daughter reached out and caught her hand. "My Lady," she said, her usual manner of flightiness had all but gone, "I was watching you with that young girl and I…was thinking of your plight." Arwen blinked, confused, but Trena did not leave her thinking for long. "I believe that my family might've… _something_ that could help. We have many herbs and remedies; in fact I'm sure that my father could make something that could help you, too."

Hildanir shifted his weight uncomfortably, but Arwen tilted her head in confusion. "I beg your pardon, Trena?"

"I think—" Hildanir began suddenly, but Trena interrupted him.

"They may've something that will help you. I know it's not an ailment," she admitted, her words rushed, "but after such a difficult way of losing a child, women sometimes need help conceiving. It's not uncommon you know, to be barren for a short period of time, to be unable to—"

" _Trena!"_ Hildanir gasped, blushing furiously, mouth wide with shock. Arwen could only stand and stare herself in utter disbelief.

"—and I think my father might've something, an herb of some sort, that'd help you and the King to conceive another child. If you'd like—"

She cut off when Hildanir took her arm tightly. " _Trena, this is_ —"

Arwen lifted a hand only slightly from her side but he noticed the cue and stopped speaking immediately. It was clear he did not wish to, but Arwen was not going to remain one moment longer. "I thank you, Trena," she struggled out, the girl's words replaying in her mind, "but I must go." Arwen bowed her head, her lips firm. "Good day."

Trena beamed in complete ignorance and curtseyed, ignoring Hildanir's grip at being acknowledged by the Queen. "Of course! Good day, my Lady."

Arwen had not made it five steps before Hildanir fell in again beside her, and then stepped directly in front of her to make her stop walking. He took to one knee before her in the middle of the street, uncaring and unthinking of who else saw him, his head low as he stared at the stones.

" _I beg your forgiveness,"_ he whispered. Arwen, more uncomfortable than he could ever know, tried not to look anywhere but at him. There were guaranteed spectators here; the last thing she wanted was for this to be a spectacle.

"My Lord, take yourself up," she said in her usual soft tones, but he did not move, staring at her feet, his face red and full of his humiliation…and anger. He had no choice but to humble himself before her; this was not a private embarrassment, it was public. He had to put it right _now_.

" _I would never…I would never speak one word of such…"_ He stumbled over the words, so angry he could barely think straight. " _I would never believe words that…I…_ you are my Queen. I would _never_ slander you; _not ever_. _Please…I beg your forgiveness, for her insolence and ignorance._ "

"I forgive you," she said, in control of every facial feature and every nuance of feeling that came off of her, completely aware of every eye on the two of them. "My Lord, please…you are free to go about your day. Do not suffer for my sake."

He stood, and finally, he looked into her face, bowing deeply. "Let me escort you to the shepherd's."

"Hildanir, you have—"

"Nothing pressing, and you are unaccompanied," he said firmly. "It should not be, and I would be remiss in my duties." Then his gaze softened with shame. "If…if you will allow it."

"I…will always welcome your company, Hildanir."

With that, he took to her side, and she only hesitated for a brief moment before she continued on her upward way, knowing that in _every way_ , the day had to be better from this moment on. She would attempt to not give these past five minutes one more moment of thought and focus on where she was going and who she was with.

But…it would be difficult.

* * *

Enguina gave a thoroughly frustrated sigh and rubbed Asfaloth's forehead vigorously. "She is slower than maple syrup in January," she muttered and the big grey snorted. Brego tossed his head up and down, flinging extra pieces of hay out into the barn aisle.

"What was that?" asked an amused Erumar. She was standing in the aisle removing tack from Rûnving as Enguina rolled her eyes.

"Erumar, what in heaven's name is taking you so long? Lómë has been in his stall for five minutes at least, we have been in Minas Tirith for _over_ an hour, and we have yet to get out of this stable after making our way through the City!"

Erumar laughed, leaning against the sorrel. "Do I sense a bit of impatience?"

"A _bit_?" she replied, incredulously. " _Erumar…_ "

"Enguina, I still need to finish removing her tack, brush her, and then find a nice stall for her," Erumar said. "I am afraid I am not quite as quick as you."

"I can help," she offered immediately, turning. "I can brush while you—"

"Oh, Enguina just _go_ ," she laughed, turning to look at her. "I will be along. You go and search for Arwen, and I will finish up here, and then come and find you _after_ I have taken everything we brought to the guest houses, with some help from the guard of course."

Enguina looked down guiltily. "I should help you with that, too, Erumar—"

"No, no," she said, sliding off Rûnving's saddle and carrying it towards the wall, "no, you will go and do what you came here to do. Honestly, I am giving you permission to run off and find Arwen, albeit carefully." She smiled at her, placing the saddle on the rack. "Go, go, _go._ "

"Truly?"

Erumar laughed. "Get out of here! I will be along."

Enguina had hurried out before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

 _Ilúvatar…you need to stop these thoughts. Protect me from myself, my shield and my defender. I do not want to be drawn down this road! Our sense of time, our desires, are not yours. Please, give me peace in this and every situation where I am pulled away from the focus of you and get caught up in the chaos and expectations of this world. When I am weak, you are strong, and I…sometimes I am so weak, Father. You have said your grace is sufficient for me, so please, help me to know it is enough._

Arwen's head was bowed, but she opened her eyes to stroke the lambs that she had been playing with. These were new, born within the last few weeks, and they had made it a point to make her their new best friend. Nosing her, pushing her, pawing her, even climbing into her lap and laying down, the lambs were an easy distraction. She had to smile as she stroked a little black one's face.

"Oh, little lamb do you know, Ilúvatar, the creator of the world made your beautiful face?" she whispered, and its eyes closed when she scratched above them. Another pressed up under her elbow, and she lowered her hand to its head. "Hello there, little sweet thing."

"You are even more beautiful than when I had left. How is that even possible?"

Arwen immediately lifted her head in shock, disbelief giving way to joy as she looked up into Enguina's grinning face. By the time the elf had lifted the lambs from her lap and risen from the ground, Enguina was inside the gate and the two met among the sheep.

"Enguina! Enguina!" Arwen cried, her eyes filling as she hugged her so tightly. Enguina laughed with delight at holding her friend. "What joy in things unhoped for! Praise Ilúvatar!"

"Praise Him, indeed! It is so good to _see_ you!" She kissed her cheek and hugged her again. "And I meant every word; it is like a _sin_. How could you be so beautiful?" She leaned back and looked at her again, brushing tears from Arwen's and her own eyes. She laughed. "We are quite a sight, hugging in this pasture."

"I do not _care_ ," Arwen replied, refusing to let her go, even for a moment. "What are you doing here? This is so unexpected! Where is Legolas?" She asked this last as she glanced over her shoulder and towards the City.

Enguina shook her head. "Legolas is not with me; Erumar and I made this trip alone. Before I begin talking about anything more, I must ask you, why did you not respond to my letter?"

She had to let Enguina go then so she could look at her. "Your letter? You sent a letter?"

"Yes! The Elven messenger assured me it had been delivered," she stated. "You did not receive it, then? I am so confused."

"But when did you send it?" Arwen asked. "I have received no word at all; Aragorn and I sent out messengers to Ithilien not a week past because we were beginning to worry for you, and for Faramir's family. We have had no word at all!"

Enguina looked relieved. "I knew you had not received it! I knew it was not that you were not writing to me on purpose."

"I would never!" Arwen cried, clearly upset. "I cannot imagine how it could have been misplaced…"

"Oh never mind it; I am here in person to deliver news of us instead!" she laughed. "Come, let us sit down and talk. We have much to tell!" She took Arwen's hand and towed her to the stone wall so they could sit and stroke the lambs at the same time.

"Perhaps it was because Aragorn and I only just arrived home a few weeks ago," Arwen said thoughtfully, still trying to puzzle out where Enguina's letter may have gotten to. "We had made a journey to Dol Amroth to settle the peace treaty with the Haradrim in the south."

Enguina laughed. "My, you do get around! I have done nothing so important with the last three years!"

"Tell me, tell me, _please_ ," Arwen begged, her eyes tearing up against her will as she held Enguina's hands. "Tell me what you have been doing. How I have longed to hear from you and what has been happening. Is the house complete? How is your marriage to Legolas? Did Thranduil return home? Where is Erumar? You brought her with you, yes? Where is Gimli? How are you—"

"Arwen!" she laughed, shaking her head, "one at a time, dearest! Give me a moment to answer your questions. Easiest first—Thranduil _did_ travel back to Eryn Lasgalen. Many of his people came, and he went home, as did Gimli to the Glittering Caves. When Erumar and I arrived, I was much too excited about seeing you and so she stayed to settle things into a guesthouse and I came to find you." She rolled her eyes. " _That_ took some time, though I nearly ran into Captain Mennev and he was able to give me some direction and I luckily remembered where this place was." She smiled. "I am…so delighted to be here with you. It is so good to see you!" She almost could not stop saying it.

"Where is Legolas?" Arwen asked, trying to stick to one question at a time. "You said you made the trip with Erumar alone."

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "Legolas went about a month ago to visit Gimli in the Glittering Caves. He could not refuse the invitation again, now that our home was complete. I am missing him _terribly_ , as a matter of fact. However, it is probably good that he is not around because if he were I would not be here and I would be sending you _another_ letter!" She laughed.

"But why did you not go with him?" she asked, surprised.

"A few reasons," Enguina replied a bit mysteriously, "but also Erumar was still with us, so she was about to keep me company. Also, I think Legolas was really looking forward to spending some time with Gimli on his own. They have been such close friends for so long…just as I have been with you." She smiled. "I think that is why Erumar told me I could come and find you myself first."

"Tell me of your home," she encouraged. "What is it like?"

"Ah…" Enguina sighed, thinking of it. "It fills one with amazement, Arwen. It is so different from Lórien, living in the trees, and so different from Lasgalen for Legolas, living underground as well. The house is large with many rooms—you can come and stay whenever you like! There is a stable for the horses and a pasture, a glade with lots of flowers and a stream nearby for fresh water and we even, well, Gimli dug a well for us, too." She sighed. "I _love_ it. I do not think I love anything more except Legolas," she giggled. "That is not true, but it _is_ so beautiful, and I am amazed by the work that we accomplished on it."

"I wish I could see it, right now," Arwen sighed wistfully. "What of Legolas? How has marriage been treating you?"

Her eyes truly began to sparkle then; they lit up with joy. "I never believed you when you kept telling me that the most wonderful thing you had ever done was find someone to share your life with. Now I know; now I understand. Every moment I spend with Legolas is a moment that I cherish. I have made…so many precious memories with him these past three years, I cannot imagine spending eternity loving him like this.

"And you said that with time love _grows_ and _grows_ and I think I may _burst_ with it sometimes already! He is the kindest, gentlest and most loving man I could have ever hoped for and still it would be nothing compared to how he treats me, how he cares for me, how he loves me. Arwen, Ilúvatar has blessed me over and over, continually these past few years. I cannot thank him, and I cannot thank you enough for encouraging me to stay and to allow my heart to be healed the way Ilúvatar was working all this time." She held her hands even more tightly.

Arwen clasped them back, raising them to her lips and kissing them. "I am so glad to hear you rejoice, Enguina. Oh, how I prayed for so long for you to know the joy of loving someone who loves you, who has pledged themselves to you. How I wanted you to know love as I know it, for so long."

"Sometimes," she laughed as tears came to her eyes, "I still cannot believe it is real, that I am sharing my life with him, that we are a family, that he loves me without condition and he will be mine forever. Sometimes…I still cannot believe it. I shake myself and wait to wake up and find that I was dreaming."

"I am so happy for you," she said, and she could something, perhaps a certain shining in Enguina's eyes…something different, that had not always been. "I—"

"You said that you had not heard from Faramir or Éowyn?"

"No," Arwen said sadly, "though I am sure they are well. I miss them; the last two years have been so quiet without all of you here." She brightened. "We _have_ heard from Éomer and Lothíriel, who are both doing well."

"Oh, Éomer!" she laughed. "How _is_ he?"

"Elfwine just turned three years old a few months past, and they have been blessed with another child." She laughed. "If I recall from their letter, she is going to have him next month. We are so delighted for them."

"Oh, another babe," Enguina said with a sigh, joy in her eyes. "What a blessing!"

There it was again; something _more_ in Enguina's eyes. A hidden joy or delight that she was keeping close to her, and Arwen gave her a sly smile and leaned in.

"All right, tell me. I know you want to."

"Tell you what?" Enguina asked innocently.

"You are _hiding_ something," Arwen pried. "It is too obvious. You have some sort of news, I know you do! Is it about Erumar? Are she and—"

Enguina burst out laughing. "By Elbereth, no! And she might be angry with you if you say anything like that in front of her. No, no, nothing of the sort. Erumar is much too reserved to be thinking like that, but Thranduil did invite her to come and see Eryn Lasgalen, so it is a very real possibility that she may go. I hope to convince her before our stay here is over."

"I will help," Arwen volunteered. "How were they? How long did Thranduil remain?"

"For too short of a time," she answered honestly. "He is so different from any other elf I have ever met, though perhaps that is because he is a King. He carries himself in such a way that…at times is very daunting to someone like me." She laughed. "I can see why Legolas has said he is stern. He does not laugh like we do, though he does have a deep sense of humor. I can feel it, but I cannot pry it out of him. Though, Legolas very much enjoyed having his father near and spending time with him. I saw them together quite a lot, even if they did not speak. Legolas and I did not talk about it very much, but I had the feeling they have not seen one another very much in the last sixty years. When I did bring it up, he did not wish to say much about it."

Enguina flashed her a smile and then sighed. "But that was not the question you asked, was it? You asked how they were. Together, he and Erumar…" she shook her head. "I honestly do not know if I have ever seen two people so meant for one another, aside from you and Aragorn, and do _not_ tell her I said that. I saw them walking together in the glade one of the last nights he was there, and you know he never touched her, always walking at her side with his hands behind his back, but…there is _something_ there, between them. I can feel it."

Arwen smiled. "I was hoping that your answer would be something like that. She should go there. It would be good for her to see a place she has never been, and perhaps find a new life."

"Indeed."

"How has she been?" she asked softly.

"When Thranduil was with us, the times she thought of him were less; though she would never talk about her dreams with me, I knew when she had one. The last year or so they have come and gone. I wish I could help her make peace with it, and that she would settle into a new life."

"Perhaps it might help her to know that you think it would be all right if she let him go," she suggested softly. "In a way, maybe she needs your permission."

" _My_ permission?" she said, confused. "That is simply ridiculous. I would give anything to see her happy again."

"Maybe the words would do more than you think, and I do not mean words in context of discussing Thranduil, either."

"I think I did mention it to her," Enguina said thoughtfully, "but the conversation usually did focus around Thranduil."

"Perhaps we can encourage her to choose to live; as I said before, I will try to encourage her as well. In subtle ways."

"She cut her hands again the other evening," she said softly. "I did not catch her in time to prevent it; I was only there for the end result. I wish she could stop hurting herself."

She reached over and touched Enguina's wrist. "Someone else has not escaped their nightmares either," she said knowingly. "How have they been?"

"Legolas is a lifeline," she said, looking into Arwen's face. "Ilúvatar has been so good to me. I…have not had one since he left save the other night when Erumar and I were traveling." She sighed. "The crossing of the Anduin was rough, and the water brought back many unpleasant memories. I…finally told her the truth about what had happened in Lórien, and when Legolas had been taken."

Arwen smiled at her and reached up to stroke her face with one hand. "I am so proud of you."

"It was time that she knew," she said softly. "I…am tired of keeping secrets. I love Erumar; I trust her…I wanted her to know the truth. You taught me that through Legolas. It was not easy, but it is done. I thank Ilúvatar every day for him, for his love." She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. That moment was enough to remind Arwen that there was still something Enguina was not saying.

Arwen looked at her sideways again. "You _still_ have not told me of this secret you keep."

"Secret?" she asked, all innocence again, but then her voice turned mischievous. "What if I desire to keep you in suspense a little longer?"

"Enguina!" Arwen said, squeezing her hands. " _Please_ do not! Why would you do that to me? I am one of your oldest and dearest friends! Why prolong my agony after all this time that I have not seen you? _Please_ , please…it is not right!"

She laughed. "Oh, very well! Do not _beg_ ; I do not think I can stand it! I do have some news that I think will bless your heart and fill you with joy. And I think it will leave you as thankful to Ilúvatar as I have been." She could not help the sparkling in her eyes now; to be able to share her joy with Arwen had been her desire for the longest time.

"What is the news?" she pressed, leaning towards her.

"There is to be a babe."

Arwen's eyes grew wide. "Another! When did you speak with Faramir and Éowyn, and why did you not say so before? Why did they not tell _us_? I must send—"

"No! No," she laughed, embarrassed at the misunderstanding.

"What? I cannot send…" Arwen looked at her face, watched her blushing, nearly bursting with joy, her eyes filled to nearly spilling over. There, within Enguina's face, was a hint of the truth and as the elf tried to blink, Arwen looked down immediately to take in what she had been completely ignorant to the entire time that Enguina had been sitting there. Her mouth fell open.

"Legolas and I… _we_ are with child... _we_ are going to have a baby!"

Arwen stared at her, watching her mouth form the words and nearly fainted. Her eyes filled with tears of joy and she lifted her hand to her open mouth, her eyes unable to move from the obvious presence of a child in her friend's womb. How could she have been so blind?

"Oh…all praise to the One," she whispered fiercely, and as she tried to wipe her eyes with one hand, she wrapped one arm around Enguina and hugged her. "You both have been so blessed! Oh, blessings on you, my dearest friend, and praise to the Lord of Creation!"

Enguina laughed through her tears. "I have been _waiting_ to share this moment with you," she said, laying her head on Arwen's shoulder. "I have been waiting to hear you praise Him. I do not know what to say sometimes to praise him, but then, you were always better at that than me."

"Oh, let me pray for you," she murmured through her happy tears, and she felt Enguina draw her hand to her womb and press it tight against her, wrapping her hand over Arwen's. "Father," Arwen began softly, "oh, how I bless you! I bless your name for this gift of life, and love! What joy! What promise of hope you have given Legolas and Enguina, to bless them with such a gift in such time. Lord, I praise you for this life! I pray that you will bless him and care for him while he is still in his mother, while Legolas is traveling…that you would keep them safe. Lay your hand of peace and comfort upon them. Lord, make it easy and full of joy for Enguina to carry this life. I bless you, and praise you, and ask for blessings for them. Oh, may there be rejoicing!"

Enguina laughed and released Arwen's hand so she could hug her properly. "Oh, thank you, thank you."

"How..." Arwen began and then had to collect herself before speaking. "How long have you known? How far along are you?"

"Five months now," she said. "The baby is due in November. I sent you the letter weeks ago, but I suppose it never reached you."

"Oh, my god," Arwen whispered in reverence, running her hand carefully over Enguina's womb. "Have you been—"

"Very well, indeed," Enguina said. "I feel as capable of doing anything as always. I have not been ill for a moment."

"Five months," Arwen said with wonder. "Have you felt him yet?"

"Yes!" Enguina laughed. "Usually at night when I am trying desperately to sleep, but yes, in the evenings the baby is most active."

"You…you are so much smaller than Éowyn…" she said softly, thinking, and Enguina smiled.

" _That_ is certainly true. Perhaps that is the way with Elvish women; I do not know." She looked at Arwen's face, her eyes closing as she laid her other hand on Enguina's womb as well. "I have waited for this for three months, since I discovered that we were to have a child. I wanted you to know so badly," she whispered, so moved by the look of wonder on Arwen's face.

Arwen's eyes filled with tears again. "I cannot feel him…but…I _can_ …I do not know if that makes sense. I know he is there."

"It is a sense of life," Enguina said, laying her hand on Arwen's. "I know the babe is there because I feel different…but you have always had that sense about you, Arwen." She reached over and wiped the tears from her face. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you know, that I was able to bring you the news myself." Arwen rubbed her thumb against Enguina's belly and the child bumped there. Enguina laid her hand over Arwen's again, laughing in surprise. "I almost never feel the child during the day…the babe must like you."

Arwen shook her head, but savored the moment, feeling the unborn child directly inside her as the pressure came against her hand just enough to feel the swell of her skin. The child was healthy and alive, and waiting to be loved and cherished by her mother and father. "Le aman, Ilúvatar," she whispered and Enguina felt tears come to her eyes as Arwen leaned in towards her, her face still turned down to the babe.

"Little one," she nearly purred to him, "you are going to be born soon into this vast, wonderful, beautiful world." Enguina wiped another tear from Arwen's face, her hand tightening over her friend's still resting on her womb. "You have the most adoring mother and father, who love and cherish you so much already. Blessed you will be, with a home, and family, and love, love, love. A blessing I give you: so you were conceived in love, so you will be born into that love, and so you shall experience that love all of the days of your life. May Ilúvatar bless and guide each step of your feet, and may you never falter. May you always know who made you, and what a blessing you are on the lives of those who will raise you." She pressed her lips to Enguina's womb.

"Amen," whispered Enguina, laying her hand against Arwen's head. "Be still my heart," she added, "that was so beautiful. I pray it will be as you say."

Arwen lifted her head and hugged her once again. "Oh, I am so glad you are here."

Enguina laid her head on her shoulder. "I could not agree more."


	9. Chapter 9

_Oh, will this evening never end?_

When Aragorn had learned by messenger that Enguina and Erumar had arrived at the Citadel, he could barely restrain his own enthusiasm to rush home. He knew very well where they would be settled in and that they would be soon seated in his own House…and he could not be there! There was no doubt where they were—seated around the table laughing and reminiscing and telling stories that he wished he could hear. He wanted to know how they were and why Legolas had not come as well, who he had dearly wanted to see. He was frustrated, but he had no other choice but to wait it out. The supper hour was over and night was coming on fast; if he was to make it home before they were too tired to stay anymore, this damn council needed to stop. He nearly sighed; that was not the way to deal with them of course. He had to find a gentle way to end this meeting.

He returned himself to listen attentively as he heard Noldore speaking. "We have heard rumors still of orcs and Easterlings gathering along the far Eastern borders of our Kingdom, beyond Mordor and the Sea of Rhûn. Though this land has been sparsely populated since the War, there is no doubt that the Shadow of Mordor yet lies heavily on it. Thranduil's people in Lasgalen are keeping watch there." He shook his head and glanced at the other councilmen. "I do not know if there is cause to worry at this time, but there may be need to see something done in the future."

"No cause for worry?" asked Nardur, leaning forward on the table. "As it has always been when dealing with these foreign nations, we need to remember that Gondor's safety and security is the utmost priority. There should be no doubt that we need to keep a closer eye on these people."

"One man is nothing," Dintîr said carefully, "even a small group would be nothing. However, one man allowed to trespass _can_ become a thousand." He nodded at Nardur, agreeing at this time, and then looked over at Noldore. "They may be camping inside our eastern borders and we would not know it."

"Thranduil's people'd hardly keep _that_ knowledge to themselves," Sair disagreed, tapping his hand on the table. He was usually one of Nardur's strongest supporters. "We're on excellent terms with Eryn Lasgalen. I'm sure the King's got his own spies watching them. Perhaps even the King under the Mountain has his eyes out. Not even Dain'd want a war with the Easterlings, after all."

"But is it the Easterlings we need to be worried about?" asked Nardur. "What of the orcs?"

"I'd be more worried about the Easterlings," Sair commented. "They're fierce warriors and are much more organized than a rabble of mindless orcs."

"Perhaps near future then," offered Noldore, as Aragorn listened closely. "Perhaps we should send scouts of our own to the North to investigate what is happening, convene with Thranduil's people, and see what needs to be done."

"Perhaps," sneered Jindal in his reedy voice, irritated with all the debate, "you are all seriously overreacting, as usual. Always it is with you, _Nardur_ , that we must leap to our own defense. We have been at peace for _ten years_. Do not be so quick to judge other nations!"

"Jindal, peace can be taken away by one man with a sword," Nardur hissed, glaring at him across the stone table. "You would do well to remember that."

"I remember what—"

Aragorn held up a hand and Jindal fell silent, scowling. The other men looked to their King. "Peace, gentlemen," he spoke softly, "there is no need to argue." He looked along the table. "The messengers from Thranduil, when did they arrive?"

"Not a month past," Dintîr said, "but that is long time with no word to follow."

"We didn't ask them to give us further report," Sair pointed out. "It was kind of them to bring it to our attention to begin with."

"Did they say if these were wandering folk, or if they were armed for war?" Aragorn asked.

Noldore shook his head. "I do not think it included any particular numbers, so I assumed it was wandering folk. I do think, however, it might be prudent to send a party of our own to investigate."

"If there is an army massing," Dintîr added, "at least then we will know of it immediately."

Aragorn nodded. "Why not send a few scouting parties to the East? Then, we can send messengers to Thranduil, East Lórien, and the Lonely Mountain and make them aware of the steps Gondor is taking to protect our people."

Sair nodded. "That'll keep good ties with the people of the Wood. Intruders'd be just as much of a worry for him as for us."

"The Riders need to travel quickly and report back within a month or so," stated Nardur. "In the meantime, we should prepare if a force might be necessary."

"Once we hear further reports, we can pass judgment as to what else may need to be done," added Jindal, sounding more reasonable.

"I think it would be foolishness if we do not recognize a threat for what it is this time," Dintîr said gently, setting his hand on the table and looking at Aragorn. "There have been plots and ploys aplenty these last several years of rebelling factions of groups that we have a lasting peace with." No one could disagree with him. "Gondor must protect itself and its allies, or we shall be sorry for it indeed."

"There can be no doubt, Dintîr," agreed Nardur. "No one would like a repeat of the past sorties with Prince Legolas or worst of all, our own Queen and the death of the heir to the throne."

"But we cannot simply send out a mass task force if there is no just cause," Noldore reminded them. "No, this is a wise plan; scout a little more before we make a war in a time of peace for no reason."

"That is correct. None of us want a war," added Nardur.

There was nothing more to be said on the subject; a small group of spies would leave in the morning. Aragorn had to work hard to keep the grin off his face that the meeting was shortly adjourned thereafter. Chairs around him began scraping as the men were saying their goodnights, and he began collecting the many pieces of parchment containing his tiny Elvish scrawl.

"Elessar," Nardur spoke nearby, "I wanted to thank you for coming to a peaceable solution that worked well for all. Sometimes, I worry more for Gondor than others think is necessary; for her, my thoughts are above all others."

Aragorn bowed his head, standing. "Fear for the lands of Gondor is what drives most of our everyday work, Nardur. No one would blame you for that." He looked at the man, surprised by the apology and the acknowledgment; it was not often given. "Our borders are well-protected and looked after, and there is no doubt that those who shelter Gondor are hard at work. The Elven-King does an excellent duty of keeping watch on the surround, and our scouts will have information for us within a few weeks. Put it out of your mind until something can be done with it."

The man made sure to fall into step beside him as they began walking towards the door. "Are you going home to the Queen, my Lord?"

This time, Aragorn did not do him the courtesy of looking at him. _No more._ "I often go to the King's House in the evening, Nardur. It is where I lay my head."

 _Cheeky_ _tonight, are you not?_ Instead of getting riled, he played along. "Yes, it has been a long day. Perhaps some food, some good company, and then to bed…where there might be rest…or not."

Aragorn stopped and turned towards him, his grey eyes turning suddenly stormy. "Stay out of it, Nardur. You would fare better not to mention it again."

"Elessar," he said, with a disarming sigh, "you know as well as I that the people of Gondor only wish you and the Queen much happiness."

"Do not bring the people of Gondor into words that are your thoughts alone."

"No, it is also their hope to see you with a son." Aragorn's nearly six and a half feet coming to bear on him was a bit unnerving, but he stood firm and did not look away. "It has been ten years, four since his death, and even Dintîr was thinking of it tonight when he mentioned the past attacks." Aragorn turned away from him and began walking down the first set of steps toward the first level, but Nardur called after him. "Taking steps to ensure a successor is necessary, my Lord! Think of your Kingdom!"

"Good _night_ , Nardur," he growled, hurrying down the last set of stairs and stepping out into the throne room. Noldore and Dintîr appeared to have been waiting for him, both of them wearing smiles. Clearly, they had not noticed his mood.

"Elessar," laughed Dintîr, "I just heard there is some good news coming your way."

That gave Aragorn a moment's pause and he halted mid-stride, his brooding look turning to one of confusion. Noldore reached out and laughed as well, clapping the man on the shoulder.

"And we do not mean that the meeting ended," he teased, "so that you could head home early to—"

" _Enough_!" Aragorn barked, brushing Noldore's hand from him and both of them looked taken aback at his fury. Dintîr actually took a step away from him, though Noldore stood still, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

Aragorn stared at them, trying to restrain the sudden urge to hit Noldore in the face. Fury flooded him, and then he remembered that this was _Noldore_ , a good friend—someone who was innocently teasing and had no idea in the slightest what had just happened upstairs. He breathed out heavily, desperate to restore control. These were not the men he should be angry with, but...this was becoming too much, and he knew it.

He lifted his hand and closed his eyes, breathed heavily again and touched Noldore's arm. "Forgive me, Noldore, Dintîr," he said, his voice low. "I am…not in the best of tempers at the moment, but I should not have taken such things out on you." His nostrils flared with the breath he took. "Will you walk me out? We can talk then." They followed him, Noldore beside, but Dintîr a step back, as if he thought perhaps Aragorn was going to get that look in his eye again and strike out at him. "What was it you were trying to tell me?"

"That there was good news at your House tonight," Dintîr said from behind. "We had just heard it ourselves."

Noldore attempted to smile again. "It should turn your mood if you are in a foul one."

Aragorn sighed. "If you are trying to tell me that the Lady Enguina and Lady Erumar are at my residence having supper with my wife, I have already been informed several hours ago that they were in the City."

"We figured you had heard _that_ ," Noldore said. "It is the _other_ news that we were fairly sure you had not heard." Aragorn glanced back at Dintîr, who only smiled.

"I take it neither of you are going to tell me what it is."

"No, some things are best left as good surprises," Dintîr said. "And I agree with Noldore; it will improve your mood."

Aragorn shook his head and stepped out into the night air, nodding to the guards, and looking up at the stars as he halted on the top step. "Gentlemen, being out of that _Tower_ has improved my mood." He turned back to them. "And being in the company of good friends improves it even more so. Have a good evening with your families, and I will see you tomorrow."

They both nodded. "Good night, Elessar," added Noldore, and the King disappeared from the steps, leaving the two men alone. Noldore looked over at Dintîr, who still stared after the King.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Dintîr asked.

Noldore shook his head. "Honestly, I am not certain, but if I had to guess I would lay blame with whoever was still within the Council chamber. My choice would be Nardur."

"Whatever it was about," added Dintîr, "I never wish to be on the receiving end of the King's wrath. When that fire is kindled in his eyes…he is a frightening sight to behold."

"I could not agree more."

* * *

Arwen laughed as she had not laughed in months. Aside from Aragorn, everyone else looked to her with respect for guidance and aid. Here, with such intimate friends, she could be herself and relax. Grinning from ear to ear, she listened to a wild tale from Enguina or a thought from Erumar, and she was ever more thankful for them to have come all this way.

"Oh, I did not!" cried Enguina, shoving Erumar's arm teasingly. " _Legolas_ was the one who planted the thistle bushes nearest the barn. He simply did not want to listen to his _father_ ; he thought he knew better."

Erumar rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, I think if there is one thing that Legolas should have known it is that his father knows his flowers and vines."

"He very much found out when Brethil's mane and tail were covered with brambles and the entire underneath of his belly." She giggled. "It took him three hours to get all of the burrs off."

Arwen shook her head, laughing again. "I am so glad you are both here," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I have missed you so." She looked to Erumar over her mug of tea. "Tell me your thoughts of the house, Erumar. Enguina told me that she loves nothing better aside from Legolas."

Erumar shook her head with a smile. "The house does not come near to her love for Legolas, but it is a dream. Flowers and fences and the glade…it is a beautiful place and it was built with the love and care of so many. I think one of the many things Legolas enjoys about it was that his father helped build it. It was such a wonderful thing to watch."

"Yes, two very strong, handsome men working with wood," Enguina agreed and Arwen laughed at her. "I quite agree, Erumar. And that probably was Legolas's favorite part of the building."

"Oh, _Enguina_ ," chided Erumar, but then she got a wicked smile on her face, "and here I thought Legolas's favorite part of the house was your bedroom."

Arwen laughed harder. "Oh, that was low, indeed!"

"Mmm," Enguina giggled, appearing to reminisce as she leaned back in her chair, cradling her hot mug in her hands. "No, that was _my_ favorite part!"

"I thought it did not matter," Erumar added. " _You_ said you would need to sleep in the barn to escape your memories of Legolas in the house."

"Oh, are we speaking of my dreams now?" Enguina questioned, and then she turned to look at Arwen, who was still laughing. "Stop laughing at me and be serious for a moment so I can ask you a question."

"It _is_ difficult, you know…but I _will_ try."

Solemnly, Enguina said, "Arwen, do you ever have dreams of Aragorn that wake you in the middle of the night and force you to the bath to douse yourself in cold water because you cannot stop the desperate ache that you cannot fulfill unless he is there?" By the time she finished the question, Erumar was holding her head in her hands, humiliated, and Enguina was giggling to herself, barely able to keep a straight face.

"Good _heavens_ , Enguina!" Erumar said, blushing for her as Enguina did not have the mind to be. "Is nothing sacred anymore?"

Arwen chuckled softly at her description. "Not usually." That sufficed to answer both questions.

"Ugh…it is completely awful…and completely _wonderful_ at the same time," Enguina complained, now a bit of a grin on her face.

"Arwen, you were asking about the house," Erumar reminded her, trying to change the subject, "before someone interrupted us with inappropriate talk about their husband."

"Oh, _forgive_ me," Enguina said, rolling her eyes. "Someone please enlighten me when the inappropriate talk is allowed to begin."

"Do you want nothing to be only between you and Legolas?" asked Erumar, confused.

"Well, of course," Enguina said flippantly, "but you worry far too much Erumar. And if I cannot share among friends, who can I talk with?" She sighed. "I suppose I will have to keep all talk of Legolas to myself…at least for the moment. I shall try to rein myself in."

"The house looks as though it were a painting with the way it is set within the trees, and the way the light hits it from afar…"

This time, Enguina did blush. "Oh, Erumar, do not exaggerate. It is not that beautiful!"

"I am sure she does not exaggerate, Enguina," Arwen said with a smile, "as that is a duty left only to you. I know the inside is for certain with all the elegant gifts that were given from the ladies of Gondor, the elves of Lasgalen, and the dwarves of the Glittering Caves. Yes, I have no doubt it is beautiful."

"I would have been happy with much less," Enguina admitted. "Wherever Legolas lays his head, I would call that home. Even if we slept under the open stars forever." Arwen smiled at her.

"What have you been doing in these last three years, Arwen?" asked Erumar. "Tell us what you and Aragorn are up to."

Arwen laughed gaily, and got to her feet to stir the stew. "Oh, the usual, to be honest. There are ongoing repairs to the City, as you know before you came up the levels. The King meets with the Council; we visit among our people; we traveled to Dol Amroth to make peace with the Haradrim. The usual things."

"And what of you two…personally?" asked Enguina, raising her eyebrows at Arwen.

" _Enguina_ ," chided Erumar, but she ignored her.

Arwen gave her a little smile. "Aragorn and I are fine, thank you so for asking."

"That gave away so much." She watched as Arwen began stirring and she rose. "Come along, Erumar; let us at least set the table." Erumar made to rise and Arwen laid a hand on her shoulder.

"No, no…sit back down, both of you. You are guests in this house, and you will sit as I serve you," she added. "You spent the day traveling; take it easy,"

"We _want_ to help," Erumar said, and Enguina reached around Arwen and opened a cupboard.

"Yes, and we practically _lived_ here before, so there is no reason at all why we should be guests only. We know where everything is." She took bowls and began to place them around the table, and Erumar reached over to pass out spoons.

"There is no telling either of you anything, is there?" Arwen asked, shaking her head.

The stew smelled so terribly good after Arwen removed the lid of the pot that Enguina placed her hand on her stomach. "I think we need to eat that as soon as possible."

"Should we not wait for Aragorn?" asked Erumar.

Enguina gave a grimace. "The baby is hungry."

Arwen burst out laughing. "Oh, by all means, let us not let the poor thing starve!"

Just as they were all standing around the table with Enguina shamelessly reaching for a spoon, they heard boots jogging up the front steps and the door clicked open. Dropping parchment and quills on the closest surface, Aragorn reached for the nearest elf and wrapped her in a hug, kicking the door behind him closed. Erumar burst out laughing and returned the hug, both of them grinning like fools.

"Mae govannen, Erumar!" he cried, and Arwen turned to watch the merriment as well, leaning a hip against the table as Enguina waited her turn to hug Aragorn. "You have not changed at all in the years since you went to Ithilien," he said, looking down into Erumar's face and she shook her head.

"No, probably not, though I think _you_ have a few grey hairs in that mane of yours," she teased him, and Arwen made a sound low in her throat behind them.

"Silver," she stated, and when they both glanced at her, her face was indignant with one eyebrow raised. "Silver is more dignified, more fitting for a King."

Aragorn smiled at her and then leaned over to kiss Erumar on the cheek. "I forgive you, for it is true. You know Arwen only wishes to be kind to me, but you also know that she counts each one of them every morning before daybreak!" They both laughed again, and then he turned to Enguina, who immediately stretched out her arms to greet him with a great, big hug. Just as he released Erumar to do the same, he stilled a moment, eyeing her carefully.

All of a sudden she was terribly self-conscious. "What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"There is…" He hesitated, but then shook his head and looked at her with confidence though his voice was soft. "There is something different about you. You…look different."

She laughed at him then, green eyes filled with delight and face beaming. "Is that a bad thing?"

He tilted his head. "No, I—"

Erumar gave him a gentle push toward her. "Tell him! _Tell him_ , Enguina!"

"Tell me what?" he asked suddenly, glancing around the room to see tears in Arwen's eyes and grins on all of their faces. _News?_ There was total silence in the room.

"I am with child," Enguina said, her own eyes filling with tears at the news and she laid a hand on her womb. "Legolas and I are going to have a babe!"

He was so stunned by the news that he stood frozen, staring into her honest face. "What?"

"Enguina is _pregnant_!" laughed Erumar from behind him. "Truly, she is!"

His movement forward was so fast that Enguina must have blinked and not seen him come to her, but she felt his arms around her, scooping her up with joy and spinning her around the kitchen in tight circles. There was such delight in his face, in hers, and Arwen blinked through her tears, feeling a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach that she had never felt before. She consciously ignored it; nothing was going to ruin this moment. Not ridiculous dread or other words or… _nothing_.

"Aragorn!" Enguina exclaimed. "Put me down before I am sick from spinning!"

He set her on the ground, grinning from ear to ear. "When? When is he due to be born? When do you expect him?"

"Four months hence," she replied. "November, a beautiful month for a birthday." She rested her hands on his shoulders as he kissed her cheek, his face so full of joy. "Oh," she whispered, glancing over at Arwen, "how I have missed this House…and both of you."

"I completely agree," Erumar said, wiping her eyes.

"We have missed you as well," Aragorn said. "It has been so _quiet_."

"Are you _sure_ you missed us?" Erumar said suddenly with a laugh. "You might regret that."

"No, we will not," Arwen said, shaking her head. "I _still_ cannot believe you are here."

Aragorn shook his head, his eyes still fixed on Enguina. "I…still cannot believe it. A _baby_. I am so happy for you both, I could burst apart. Where is Legolas? Is he not here for me to wish him merry?"

"No, he traveled to Helm's Deep to visit Gimli," she replied. "Already, this waiting for the child drives me mad. I want so badly for the babe to be born soon."

"Longer than waiting for Legolas to wed you, I suppose?" Aragorn teased her.

"Oh, much longer," she agreed. "That was only a few months. This seems interminable. I have such a desire to hold the child already; sometimes I cannot imagine what it is like for Legolas, as I am already carrying the child."

"Well," he replied softly, laying his hands on her shoulders, "I am certain that he is feeling that when he is holding you, he is holding the child as well." He smiled at her again as she blushed, touched by his words.

"Thank you, Aragorn," she replied, and he released her.

"I think it is time we sat down to eat," Erumar said, grinning at Enguina. "Or is the babe no longer hungry?"

"Oh, no," Enguina admitted, "he is ravenous."

They laughed, and Arwen said, "Then come and sit down and let us have dinner together."

As Erumar went to scoop the stew, and Enguina took a seat at the table, Aragorn moved to retrieve his parchment but found it had already been picked up by Arwen. He tilted his head to her as he leaned forward and took the notes from her, shoving them beneath one arm. With his other and both elves preoccupied by the stew, he took a quick moment to steal a one-armed hug from his wife. What had been an intended quick hug lasted longer as Arwen slipped both arms around his waist and held him close for several moments. Surprised, but happy it was longer than he had planned, he leaned down and brushed his lips to her forehead.

"How was your day, beloved?" he whispered, drowning out the sounds of their friends' chattering to focus on her. She nodded, breathing for a moment in his arms and grateful for even this bit of affectionate contact, though she could hardly place why. But whatever the reason she could not understand, it was so comforting, like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. Her hands slid out from around his waist and she looked into his eyes and smiled at him.

"It was very good," she replied as he released her, both of them feeling their friends' eyes on them. "Enguina and Erumar came."

He chuckled. "Let me put these papers in their place and we can give thanks. It is clear we have much to be grateful for and many praises."

* * *

"Good night!" Enguina called as she and Erumar went down the front steps of the King's House. "We will see you in the morning!"

"Are you certain you do not wish us to walk you home?" Aragorn asked from the doorway, his arm settled around Arwen's waist.

"No, do not be ridiculous," Erumar laughed. "You can nearly _see_ the guesthouse from here."

"Good night," Arwen called, lifting a hand, and Aragorn shook his head at the two of them, walking arm and arm away from their home. She felt him pull her to him and bump her hip against his.

"Come inside," he said, and they did, him closing the door for them. He looked into her face and saw her mouth open, head shaking. "What is it?"

She laughed gaily. "I still cannot _believe_ it."

"Which part?" he asked, tilting his head with a smile of joy at her delight.

"That my dearest friend," she said, looking into his eyes, "the one who I worried and prayed over for years, who never thought she was good enough to be loved, has found love and been blessed with a _child_." She laughed again, tears of joy filling her eyes again. "And _Legolas_ …he must be beside himself with joy! It is so unexpected!"

"How I wish he were here," Aragorn said. "I want to congratulate him myself."

She slipped her arms around his shoulders, joining them behind his neck. "I know you do."

He laughed softly. "But I am very glad that your dearest friends have come. You have been missing them…as have I."

"Legolas will come, too, and then we will get to speak with him ourselves," Arwen said. "He would not be gone that long from her side. I cannot believe he left her at all."

Aragorn smiled at her. "No, we know him too well." He lowered his forehead against hers and sighed, enjoying being held by her as he laid his hands along her waist.

"Oh, I am so, so happy for them both," she said. "I feel like celebrating."

"Yes? How would you like to celebrate?" He was teasing her now, but she did not give in to that lilt in his voice, that little smirk she knew was on his face even though her eyes were closed.

"I want to pray for them," she said softly. "Will you, please?"

"Of course…" he murmured. "Oh, Father how we seek you to praise you tonight. We thank you for the lives of our dearest friends and that they have come here to be among us once again. We thank you for the love between Legolas and Enguina that they have found in one another and we celebrate it. And finally, we thank you for this new life that you have created and given them. They are going to be wonderful parents, loving and filled with joy. Help us to celebrate with them, help us to enjoy the time that we share, and help us to encourage and support them in the raising of their child. We ask that you bless Legolas and give speed to his return so that we might rejoice with him that much sooner. Bless Enguina; make the carrying of this child easy and her burden light so that she might be at peace during this time. Let her trust you always."

Aragorn sighed softly, and thought back to his evening and some of the things that had been weighing on his heart this past week. He did not want to say anything about it to her…but it was an opportunity to pray when he needed to. Ilúvatar knew, and that was enough. He did not wish to trouble her with it.

"Father, may we also seek you during this time. May we remember that it is you who strengthens us, guides us, and heals us on our path. Fix our eyes so that we may not let the…chaos of the world take our hope and trust in you. This is the prayer of our hearts tonight."

She touched her lips to his. "Thank you…" He had no idea how his words had touched her; she was not about to tell him that the last part of his prayer was the cry of her heart. Instead, she focused on Enguina. "I…I think I would like to make her something," she said, and her stomach had that strange feeling again. She roughly shoved it deep inside. "Perhaps some clothes, I think."

He gave her a little smile. "Girl or boy?"

"I have been saying boy," she said, thinking. "I am really thinking boy."

"I agree," he said, and Arwen smiled. "You are an exceptional seamstress," he added. "Whatever you choose to make for him will be sure to please, and it will be good to see you working with your hands again."

"It has been a long time since I have sewn anything; Enguina's wedding, I believe."

"Yes, that dress you made her," Aragorn agreed, remembering.

"And fixing your tunics, though I am not sure that counts."

"Oh…it does," he replied with a chuckle and he lifted his mouth to kiss her forehead. "Were you going to begin working on them tonight?"

"Perhaps," she said. "I may need to go to the market and find some soft fabrics…and _warm_. It will be winter when he is still very young." Aragorn nodded.

"Now I must think of something that _I_ can give the child."

Arwen laughed. "The clothes can be from both of us," she chided. "You need not—"

"Well, perhaps I can think of something. I am not much for carving toys and such things, at least not with any particular skill."

"I think I have something," she told him, a light coming to her eyes, and he pulled back a little so he could look at her. "You could make him a book; you are such a beautiful artist though you never have much time for it. Draw him pictures and write the words." She smiled at him.

"Perfect," he said, grinning, leaning forward to kiss her again. "Shall we begin collecting our materials? These projects are going to take us some work."


	10. Chapter 10

It had taken them two days, but Enguina, Erumar, and Arwen had finally made their way to the market. The two of them were finally settled in and decently rested, and Enguina had been so excited to see what had changed in the market in three years. It was not only this that excited her, of course; she fully intended to purchase several things for the child today and have a wonderful time doing it.

After three hours or so, Enguina finally realized that she more than likely was not going to have to purchase a _single thing_. From bakers to doll-makers, it seemed almost every person in Minas Tirith had a gift for the child. Rejoicing with her wherever the trio walked, people were grasping her hands and congratulating her, some of them even laying hands on her womb and praying aloud! She was astounded; she knew many of these people, even if not by name, but this was something she had never experienced—people were excited for her and Legolas, and even more than their wedding celebration. Oh, how she wished Legolas were here to thank them as well as she was!

Arwen laughed. "Oh, Mintan, you are too kind!" she said to an old man who held out a blanket from his shop. "Did your wife make this?"

"Oh, it is _beautiful_!" cried Erumar, stroking her hands along the colorful fabric. "And _soft_!"

"O'course, milady!" he laughed with her. "She wants 'er to 'ave it. Wouldn't 'ear a thing about it, neither. 'For the Lady Enguina's new babe,' thas watchee said to me this mornin'!"

"Oh, no, please," Enguina began again with much chagrin. "I could not possibly—"

"Now, now! No ifs or buts! Me wife'd be beside 'erself if ya didn't accept 'er gift."

"Thank you so very much," said Enguina, humbled, as Arwen collected it under her arm for her. "Please, tell your wife that I am so filled with joy at her gracious gift. The Prince and I will use it for the cradle."

The man grinned at her and nodded. "Yer more than welcome, milady, and you couldn't be more blessed! I've got six children and ten grandchildren meself!"

Enguina smiled. "If my husband has anything to say about it, our family will be just as large as yours. I can only pray I would be so blessed." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, a thousand times!"

The trio moved along, Erumar still marveling over how wonderful a blanket it was and Enguina sighed, looking at Arwen. "I feel _terrible_ about all of these people giving us things! How can you stand it?"

"This is their way of celebration, Enguina," Arwen told her honestly. "Please, just let them dote on you."

"A blessing on you, Lady Enguina!" called a seller from across the street and she lifted her hand, smiling.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, and then startled as an old woman clutched the hand she had been holding up.

"Oh my dear!" she cried, reaching over and laying a hand on Enguina's womb. "Let me bless this little one! Let me pray over you!"

Arwen's stomach lurched oddly again, but once again, she shook it off. It had happened several times today; she wondered if there was something wrong with her. The woman, in the meantime, was jabbering on with Enguina about something, and Erumar was looking around at the other stands in the market. She smiled to herself, happy that Enguina was receiving some attention, even if she did not want any.

Erumar, little known to Arwen, was not looking around at the food stalls as she thought.

She had first noticed that there was something… _peculiar_ …about the way some of the people of Minas Tirith were watching them. At first, she thought it was just a simple sea of onlookers, people looking to see Enguina and congratulate her on the birth of her first child. But then, she began to notice more and more that some of these people, after their congratulating, were returning to their stalls or their homes and… _staring_. And not at Enguina. These were not looks of joy; they were looks of _pity_ , some even of _anger_ and _jealousy._ At first, she was confused, but then when she realized they were not looking at _Enguina_ with those pitiful eyes, she realized just who they were looking at.

Most were _delighted_ for Enguina, but they were terribly saddened for their Queen—the Queen whom they adored was still without a child. The anger, well…that was just the corrupted hearts of men displaying their corruptness. After finally realizing what was happening, she tried to ignore them, to not pay attention to the looks, but they were extremely distracting—and _obvious_. Part of her wondered how in the world neither Enguina nor Arwen were noticing these looks that were happening all around them. Part of her wondered what would happen when they _did_ notice, but she was not about to say anything. This situation was in no one's control but Ilúvatar's.

There was a man in the shadows near one of the stalls who caught Erumar's eye. He was an angry-eyed man, his arms crossed over his chest and hands balled into fists. This was the type of situation where Erumar got worried; a lone man controlled only by rage. Subtly, she stepped forward, sliding into a position that blocked Enguina entirely from the man's view. He scowled at her, took half a step forward, and then stepped back into the shadows at the look that crossed Erumar's face.

"Erumar? Did you hear me?" Enguina asked, touching her arm. Erumar turned, surprised at the touch, and Enguina tilted her head and looked in the direction she had been staring so intently at. Erumar glanced, too, and was relieved to note the man had disappeared. "What were you looking at? Your face was so severe." Her voice was worried.

"No, it was…it was nothing, Enguina," Erumar replied, turning back to her and Arwen, who was also looking at her, but there was something in her eyes that made her feel Arwen might have seen the man. "I lost myself in thought for a moment. What were you saying?"

"It is about lunchtime. I was asking if you were hungry."

"Yes," Arwen interjected, "Enguina is trying to gauge your hunger to make up her mind about her own."

Erumar looked puzzled. "Dearest, you cannot decide of you are hungry?"

"Oh, stop, both of you," she chided. "I am sorry I am so indecisive."

"I shall be happy to make it for you, then," she said, slipping her arms behind the backs of both Enguina and Arwen and turning them back the way they had come. "What say both of you to putting some of these gifts in the guesthouse, and then heading to the stable for a picnic in the hay?"

"Oh, I like that!" exclaimed Enguina. "And we can bring some apples for the horses as well."

"Asfaloth will like that very much," Arwen agreed with a smile. "Good work, Erumar."

* * *

Erumar and Enguina sat in the hay, taking out the bread, cold ham, lumps of cheese, and fruit they had brought. Chattering just between the two of them and organizing what they were removing from the basket, Arwen slipped into Asfaloth's stall. He swung his head towards her and let out his breath in greeting, and she extended a hand and rubbed his forehead between the eyes as she smiled at him. The smile slowly faded as she reflected on the morning.

She knew Erumar had seen Vändir standing off in the shadows of the market. Did Arwen know why he was scowling so? Not really, but she could guess; he despised her, so it would not surprise her in the least for him to be irritated at her presence drawing so many eyes and people to the market. Oh, how she wished he would just _leave_ , leave Minas Tirith, even the _realm_ , so that she never had to lay eyes on him again. Every time she saw him, he made her think back to that time and then her recent dream about that dark-haired woman…she hated thinking about it. She in no way wanted to dwell on the time that she had spent in grief over her loss, so she pushed that away. Instead, she set her forehead upon Asfaloth's as he sighed and closed her eyes.

"I have been feeling strange, Asfaloth, these last two days," she whispered, laying a hand on her stomach. "I do not know what it is, but I keep…pushing it away. I am not sure what it is." She was puzzled, but not worried. Whatever it was would either go away or she would work it out. "And I saw someone in the market today who…makes me think of the past."

He snorted.

"No…they are not pleasant memories."

He raised his head gently from hers and then set his head over her shoulder; he nickered softly.

She smiled then, rubbing her hand along his muscular neck. "I know you care for me. I love you, too." She really did not understand him, but she knew him well enough to figure out this exchange.

"Arwen?" called Erumar. "Are you coming, dearest?"

She slipped her arms around Asfaloth's neck and hugged hard. "Thank you." He sighed and she released him, slipping out of his stall and taking a seat in the hay with her friends. "Forgive me; I wanted a few moments with Asfaloth."

Enguina smiled. "You and that horse. Whatever would you do without him?"

Arwen shook her head. "Lose my mind."

"You always did seek the solace of the stable," Erumar said, handing her a sandwich. "You have always had a connection with them that I did not understand, and then there was Aragorn."  
Enguina laughed. "Oh, I thought he was positively _mad_ when I first met him and he spoke with Lómë. Sometimes I am still in disbelief that he can communicate with them in that way."

"Do not misunderstand," Erumar added, "Rûnving and I get along, but I do not know her as you do Asfaloth, or even Brego. No, you and Aragorn certainly have a special bond with your horses."

"If you spent more time with her, you would probably understand her better," Arwen said softly. "But do not feel guilty, Erumar. We all have our passions. I have loved horses since Elrohir picked me up and put me on his horse before him." She smiled. "I still remember mother furious, but I more remember the feel of the black's mane between my hands and his warm body."

"How old were you?"

"Oh…very, very young."

Enguina smiled. "I remember when we all met for the first time in Lórien," she said. "And I cannot believe how far we have come." She took a bite of her lump of cheese and laid her other hand over her womb. "Is this child the reason why I am so hungry?"

"You are, as they say, eating for two," Erumar pointed out. "We would never say anything to you though; please, eat!"

Enguina smiled and then looked down at her belly again. "I was so… _moved_ today," she said. "The people of Minas Tirith are so kind and generous. I…never expected there to be so many people with such words of kindness and blessing for the baby and myself, even Legolas. And their _gifts_ —"

"Oh, yes," Erumar laughed kindly, "it was difficult to carry them back!"

"I hope everyday will not be like this," she said, embarrassed. "I may have to hide indoors."

"Or simply keep to the gardens and the Citadel," Arwen said with a smile. "But do not be so embarrassed, Enguina; the people loved celebrating with you today. Even though it made you feel awkward, you were glowing."

"Yes, you were," agreed Erumar. "It was lovely to see."

"Stop it, both of you. You are embarrassing me!" she chuckled, and proceeded to take a bite of the sandwich Erumar had cobbled together for her. "The only thing I simply could not stop being startled by was people just…coming up and touching me."

"Oh that first one _was_ a bit awkward," Erumar laughed and Enguina buried her face in her hands in her humiliation. "You did not mean to shove her hands off you, Enguina."

"I _did_ mean to," she replied and she felt Arwen's hand on her arm. "I just did not know why she had touched me and I reacted."

"There was quite a crowd around you," Arwen comforted her. "You did not know what was happening. You should not blame yourself. In fact, if you wish to blame anyone, it should be me. I suppose I should have made you aware that something like that was possible."

"I should have known she meant no harm," she mumbled. "I felt terrible."

"You did much better…the next thirty times it happened," Erumar teased with a grin.

Even though Enguina was not looking at her, she groaned. "I hate you."

The other two laughed out loud. "It will get easier," said Arwen. "Even if you do not want all the attention, it is nice to have so many wish you well."

"I received enough blessings today to make it through the next four years of my marriage, I can honestly say that." She lifted her head and sighed. "As long as I am not walking alone in the City, I think I will be all right."

"I cannot imagine why you would be walking alone when there are two of us here," Erumar said, rolling her eyes. "And when Legolas finally comes, there will be three."

"Oh," laughed Arwen, "it will happen all over again when Legolas comes."

" _Please_ do not say that!"

* * *

Aragorn entered the King's House just as the bells were tolling one in the morning. This had not been a late night council meeting, but a late-evening ride back across the Pelennor. It had been a little over a week since Enguina and Erumar had arrived, and he had finally been out to _see_ the new construction on the outer wall. The men had wanted him to remain with them, but he was intent on returning home and Captain Mennev was his sole companion. He was scheduled to go back in another week to see what needed to be done with the gates. The wall had looked incredible, and he had enjoyed his time with the many soldiers.

There were candles burning in the sitting room and in the bedroom, but Arwen was in neither place. She had, at some point, been in bed; the sheets were in disarray. He removed his boots and sword belt and then turned back to their porch, thinking she might be outside. At the corner of his eye he caught sight of a reflection in the mirror of a candle burning in the bath. He turned around again and then headed inside, pausing to rest his shoulder on the doorframe.

She was leaning forward upon the dresser, her hands spread out supporting her weight, completely still; it was clear she had no idea he was there. Her head was lowered, her hair a mess, eyes closed tightly. He walked in to her and reached over for the brush in front of her. Scooping her hair back in one hand, he began brushing through it, untangling the knots carefully. She did not startle, nor did she lift her head. She knew who it was.

When he had finished brushing, he tied a ribbon in her hair, keeping it back off her face. He laid a hand on her back and rubbed it gently along her spine, trying to soothe her. "You had another dream," he said softly. "Please, beloved…what is troubling you?"

He was worried; she could hear it in his voice, and he should have been. _Something_ was not right…and she had no idea what it was. These were strange dreams, but she could not tell him of them. She did not _want_ to tell him of the woman with the dark hair, the nameless dread she was feeling, the strangeness going on in her stomach at odd times during the past week that she was trying to chase away. But what _could_ she tell him? She felt his hands turning her body toward him. She was a little stiff, as she had been in that position for…well, as long as she had been awake. When she did not meet his gaze, he tilted her chin with one hand.

"Arwen…what is causing you such distress?"

A sudden and desperate need for his comfort came over her and she shook her head. "It is a feeling…something I cannot place." Her voice was a whisper in the darkness, the candle lighting her confused eyes.

"Will you speak of it?" he asked softly, and she slipped her chin from his hand and pressed her face to his chest. There were several moments of silence between them, her hands found their way around his waist, holding herself to him, and his made their way around her back and head.

"Can you leave it be?" she finally said without any emotion.

"Another time," he said. "Soon." It was not a question; this was not something he was going to let pass, and she was not going to be able to move him on that, either. She gave in, nodding. "How was your day?"

That feeling again, in her stomach, sudden and irritating. She forced it away. "I was visiting some families today, and Enguina and Erumar stayed in until I met them for lunch. I had a sense of…disquiet today among the people. It was so _strange_. I am not sure what the matter was. How was your ride?"

"It was well," he replied. He did not tell her that he spent the majority of the morning thinking about several snide comments made by some citizens near the gate that he had overheard, and he did not tell her that the ride back he spent the time thinking of several well-wishes for them to have a child of their own. Oh, he knew he should tell her, but why bring all of it back? Why force her to relive that pain? He wanted to cheer her, not make her sadder. "Brego was pining for you, and envious that you visited the stable and he was not there to receive your love."

That made her smile a little bit. "I can only imagine."

He could not let this go…she was quiet, sad; she felt 'off' in his head. It was bothering him that perhaps she really did _not_ know what was affecting her so badly. That worried him more than her knowing; though he had some idea that _she_ had some idea. Her dreams were definitely troubling, and if he could not discover what they were, well…he would have to do the only other thing he could think of to do. He stroked his fingers along her hair, rubbing her scalp. He felt her sigh—she loved it when he did that.

"I cannot let this go tonight," he said suddenly. "I cannot let your dream, your worries go; you need something…tell me what to do. What can I do?"

She did not stiffen, as he expected. Instead, she lifted her head and he brought his down to lay his brow against hers. "I need mercy," she whispered, and he knew what she was asking for.

"Father," he prayed, his voice soft, "I come before you with concern for my wife." Her eyes filled with tears as he continued. "I know she is troubled; I know she is struggling with something that may or may not be defined in her heart. I do not know; she cannot speak of it yet. But you see all hearts; you have known us since before time began. Therefore, I ask you for your mercy and grace tonight. Give her peace in the midst of whatever darkness she is facing. Help me to be here for her, to love her with your understanding and compassion. Oh Ilúvatar, I pray that whatever this is, may your hand rest upon us filled with your comfort, just as it has in the past. You are the great Healer, and your time is unknown to us; keep our eyes on you and walk with us, I pray. Amen."

"Amen," she whispered, and she felt him kiss her forehead as the words resonated within her. "Thank you so much. How do you always know what I need?" She felt tension release in her shoulders; the dream beginning to fade. She felt drained, but not tired; her heart felt heavy inside her. She wanted to fill the void; she rubbed her forehead against his, her hands tightening on his tunic.

"I am glad that you spoke the truth," he murmured. "I only know what I feel from you, and what I feel _for_ you."

"I needed you to come back at that moment," she told him. "I needed you to bring me back to reality by brushing my hair. I…needed you to pray for me…"

He shifted in her embrace and she released him, thinking he wanted her to let go. He did, but not for the reason she was thinking. He reached over and snuffed out the candle and then scooped her suddenly into his arms and her hand pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "I am going to carry you back to our bed," he stated, his voice still low.

"I…need that as well," she admitted. He sat her down upon their bed, leaning over her, his hands on either side of her, his face so very close to hers their noses were touching. She ran her hands along his back and held his shoulders, her fingers rubbing those familiar scars even through his tunic.

Was it wrong to desire her instantly when her hands were on him like this? He had been thinking about Nardur's comments, the councilmen, the talk, the well-wishers; with all this weighing on him, was his motive still only to love her? Or was there something more? Did he truly believe the speech of Nardur, that the more they were together the higher the possibility there would be a child? _Oh Ilúvatar, only you know my heart. I desire her…and it has nothing to do with having a child. You have given me this woman to love…let me love her!_

"Do you need me?" he asked, rubbing his nose against hers, then her cheek before capturing her lips gently. Her eyes closed and her hands tightened on him.

"Of course I do," she whispered back into his mouth, but before he kissed her again, he pulled back slightly.

"Do you need me?" he asked again, and she could hear his heart beating. She opened her eyes and something in his ignited within her. She could read the part of him that was her and she could feel him burning…an intense longing to be with her physically and share himself with her emotionally. Leaning on his left arm, he raised his right to brush a stray lock of hair across her cheek and behind her ear, running his fingers along it as he moved. His touch was like a jolt during a lightning storm, communicating so much in that instant that her heart caught flame.

Her skin flushed to see so much desire in his eyes, to feel it in one touch; she pushed the dream to the bottom of her toes. _To the hells of Morgoth with the dark-haired woman! To the hells of Morgoth with dreams and dread! I alone am the woman he adores!_ It was intensely wonderful to forget everything and focus on him.

" _Yes_ ," she murmured, " _yes, I need you, Aragorn_." He took her face so gently between his hands that he watched her eyes close, her lashes fluttering sensuously against her cheek.

He lovingly sighed. "I love it when you whisper my name."

" _Aragorn…Aragorn…Ara—_ " He captured her lips again and she gave to the kiss, trying to slide her hands up and around the back of his neck as she continued the whispering of his name within his head. It was a challenging position, being bent this way, so he knelt beside the bed, lowering his hands to graze her ears, her neck, her shoulders, so slowly. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he cupped the back of her neck with his hands, dragging his thumbs along both of her ears at the same time. The voice in his head cut off abruptly as her body trembled, and he slid himself between her knees, pressing his upper body against her and kissing her through his little smile.

Again, she gave herself to his kiss, but this time she breathed him in, opening that place inside herself where she felt him so strongly, his passion filling her. He gasped into her mouth as her hands slid back around his neck and drew along his throat to his collarbone to slip inside the front of his tunic. She felt his hands pause against her ears, and she kissed him intensely, pressing into him and pushing her advantage. Oh, if he could stun her, she would give it right back; draw him in, surprise him…

Every button on his tunic came undone as she let her hands wander downward, pressing him back to sink to her knees on the floor before him. She dragged her nails down his long frame, playing her fingers over his breast, his ribs, his stomach, all the way down his legs to his knees and then back again. His fingers were fumbling around her ears, and she trembled again, but this time, did not lose her single-minded focus. She pushed his tunic off his shoulders, letting it fold from his frame until his hands released her face to let it spill to the floor behind him. She pressed into him hard, his breath catching as the two of them fell, him backwards onto the tunic, her against his chest, continuing to kiss him. His chest was heaving against hers; he was not in control of himself, and his breathing could not hold out like hers in a situation like this. His hands came up her back and blundered along her shoulders, searching for the straps of her nightdress; if she had not been in such a state she may have laughed at his complete lack of coordination.

Her fingers now roamed his chest, her nails like feathers causing him to tremble beneath her. She pushed her limits, pressing her body against him and then finally tugging her lips from his and giving him half a moment to breathe as she forced her lips along his jaw and then beneath his chin; all his hands could do at this point was grip her shoulders. Her lips showered him with love from his chin to his throat, along his jaw, and then back to his ear where her tongue and lips focused on smothering his earlobe. He knew what _that_ was…retribution from the stable though she was not biting. But two could play there, and even though he could hardly think straight, he was not about to let her have all the control. One hand came up to draw her hair away from her back and then stilled when she pressed herself hard against him and dragged one hand down to his knee again, spinning her fingers seductively around his kneecap.

He could not remember when she had discovered that about him, but his knees were so sensitive to her, he was momentarily unable to piece together a single, coherent thought as his eyes closed in pleasure. His lips stuttered around her name, though he was murmuring it in his head, and she suddenly lowered her mouth to his again, obviously content with their momentary stages of undress. Pulling away slightly, she trailed fire down his chest with her mouth as her hand spun around his knee. He felt so hot that he tried to squirm out from underneath her weight pressing down on him, but she was not about to let him. She was not letting him up; she was not cutting him loose at all. _Arwen, Arwen!_

His breath was coming out in harsh gasps when she captured his lips again and he tried to free his hands from beneath the straps of her nightdress and struggled with the possibility of tearing it. As lost in the fervor shared between them as he was, he dragged his hands down her arms; uninterrupted with her kisses against his mouth, she slipped her arms from the nightdress fluidly, moving against him with such grace that he wondered if she had not been planning it from the beginning. It fell to her waist, and some comprehension returned to his brain and hands so he could bring them along her back. She leaned forward and pressed herself against him, the feel of their skin together fueling their passion.

His very vocal groan told her what she already knew and she smiled, kissing back down to his jaw. She felt him lift his chin and she went from his throat all the way to his ear again, but this time behind it, rubbing her lips back and forth against the spot. He jolted beneath her, dislodging her weight enough to lift his trembling knee from beneath her hand and press it to her hip, pushing her onto her back. He was completely provoked now, and pulling his head back he dove in against her ear as his hands pulled her into him, pressing their breasts together hard. His lips were almost bruising her skin, his mouth was so forceful against her neck as he was nearly growling, making sounds low in his throat. She knew what he was reaching for and she allowed him his revenge, tilting her head and putting her ear well within reach—she wanted it, wanted _him_. His teeth caught the top of her very sensitive ear and her body pushed into him as she cried out.

Perhaps that first bite had been a bit too rough, but she was too filled with him to care; she probably should have reined him in as his teeth and tongue were finding other sensitive areas behind her ear and along her throat. Her hand found his knee again as his leg trembled against her and she trembled against him as he returned to her ear, pressing it over and over between his teeth and lips. Her nails caught his rib cage; she had not meant for them to be there, but him being half-over her when he was doing _that_ , he had brought it on himself. Her eyes rolled closed now, her breaths panting as his other hand came up to lightly pinch the tip of her other ear. She whimpered, her hand in a sudden spasm around his knee.

He had let her so lovingly arouse him, and now was going to let him make her pay for it. Wonderfully, overpoweringly, passionately pay for it.

 _Lay your love on me, Aragorn…lay it all on me!_


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Thank you WickedGreene13 and GuestSE for your thoughts and reviews, and for those of you following the story. Glad you're enjoying it so far. They say not knowing the gender of your child is the last great adventure so...I don't want to spoil anything! :O) Hope all of your weeks are going well!

* * *

There was a knock on the door of Nardur's home, and the man startled out of the sleep he had been having in his chair. That was good, because it was not good to sleep in a chair all evening either. He stumbled up and rubbed his face with one hand, opening the door with the other. Ethring brushed past him into the house, stopping just inside the sitting room and as the front door closed, both men turned to face one another.

"Please," Nardur said a bit nastily, " _do_ come in." Ethring glared at him, but behind that glare was an uncomfortableness that did not come from Nardur.

"Your… _contact_ …has been made at the King's House," he muttered, looking away from Nardur's eyes. "Four times in the last month at least and I am _still_ doing this. Why? We know he _is_ laying with her. The rest is Ilúvatar's, Nardur."

"I do not wait for Ilúvatar's time!" Nardur growled, stepping forward to him. "I know this is a difficult position for you; I know you are uneasy about—"

"I am _humiliated_ by it," Ethring spat. "If the King were to ever find out what I have been doing, I would be hung from the ramparts and stoned!"

"Ethring, our King does not _stone_ people," he replied with worn patience.

"Nardur, there is no way to insure that she will become pregnant." Ethring was getting right down to the point. He really believed this was a fruitless venture and it would not produce results.

"It takes months for a woman to show, Ethring. We will not know if this was fruitless until—"

"Can we not just admit that she is barren? Not even to ourselves?" he said, frustrated. "You said yourself that the Healers told you that it is very possible she will never conceive again. A miscarriage can damage a woman's fertility forever; she will never bear him anything."

"Giving up, Ethring?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Just on her," he said firmly. "As you said, the Lady Enguina is with child and she has been married only a short number of years. I honor the Evenstar very much, but this _is_ hopeless. Even Elessar should be able to see that he needs a mistress, someone to take her place. The people would not begrudge him the right for an heir."

"Or a new wife altogether."

"I…think that is taking it a bit far," Ethring said. "The Queen is good for our Citadel, for the Reunited Kingdom. And she quite clearly makes the King very happy."

"Yes," Nardur laughed, "what did Gildion call her? An Elvish whore."

Ethring's jaw tightened. "That is slander, Nardur."

"Perhaps he was right."

"She _is_ pure," he insisted. "She does not flaunt herself about and it is clear she would never become an adulteress; she would never betray him. Gildion was wrong."

"Do you think he would ever consciously betray _her_?" Nardur asked and Ethring sighed.

"I do not know. He loves her so deeply. How have your dropped words been going?"

"Oh…he was fairly enraged the other evening," he said truthfully. "Walked out on me. But I am uncertain he will ever betray her _willingly_. If what you said about elves is true, perhaps she _would_ die…and he would never jeopardize her life. But I am doing some reading in the great library, and I am close to finding something that I think may…assist us."

"If you like, keep me informed," he replied. "In the meantime, must I still watch?"

"I will let you know when." Ethring bowed his head and turned away. Just as he had his hand upon the door, he heard Nardur's voice behind him. "Ethring, what is the name of the elf that travels with the Lady Enguina?"

He half-turned. "Her name is Erumar of Lórien. She was the wife of Haldir; the mallorn that stands in the garden was planted in his honor. Enguina was his sister. Why?"

Nardur shook his head, but smiled. "Just…thinking."

* * *

Erumar had woken early and was out in the garden. She had no idea why she chose this place; her only thought was to escape the four walls of the guesthouse and breathe. Oh, the memory of Haldir had weighed heavily on her last night and she had not slept at all; today was the anniversary of their personal affirmation of their love for one another. Usually, she spent this day alone, hiding in bed beneath the covers and refusing to see the day at all, even acknowledge that it had existed. Enguina did not know what day this was; it had been a personal pledging between the two of them after Aragorn had saved his life from the orcs, when he had promised to her that things would be different between them. No one knew of it but her; it was a day more important than their wedding or any birthday, and Erumar was trying desperately not to let on that something completely mad was going on in her head.

She had looked for solace, hoping to find some peace, but this garden was not helping either. The dawn had brought the beauty of the opening of the morning glories, but it meant nothing to her without the presence of the person beside her that made her feet stick on the ground, made her heart feel a little lighter and brought her out of the darkness. And she _had_ to stay away from that _mallorn_ tree; she had not walked here in years and the last time had been with Thranduil keeping her busy talking instead of thinking. Now, all she could do was _think_. Oh, _god_ , she should not have come here on her own!

Pain lanced her heart and she held the chest of the tunic she was wearing, her hand clutching it tightly. But what was she to do? Where was she to go? There was no escape from this terrible day, no escape from the dreadful agony she felt that sometimes took her so suddenly. _Haldir…Haldir…_ oh that name that poured ceaselessly from her heart! Why could she not accept that he was gone? Why could she not get some sort of peace in knowing that she was still here, that there was still life to enjoy, that she _could_ enjoy it, _had_ enjoyed it! Why was she so plagued by these feelings of doubt, insecurity, pain, grief, and shame?

Blindly walking, she stumbled into the edge of the wall where the rosebushes were growing. Throwing out her hands prevented her from falling over into them, but they landed among thorns, the little pickers stabbing into her flesh. She winced, but the physical pain gave her a moment's respite from the emotional one. Relief took over, and she pressed harder onto her hands, allowing the thorns to push more deeply into her palms, her fingers, even her wrists as she leaned, gritting her teeth and allowing that physical pain to tear at her.

"Erumar, what are you _doing_!?"

That was the cry, and if Erumar had any sense, she might have pulled her hands away and tried to apologize; but she could not. Instead, she just kept pushing until Enguina's hands wrapped around her wrists.

"Stop, _stop_!" she cried, trying to ignore the blood seeping out on the stones. Her stomach flipped over…and over…and her head felt so light. "No more! Stop it now!" She pulled her hands back, yanking on them so that Erumar's came free from the bushes. When she had finally, forcefully, turned her away, Erumar allowed herself to be pulled by her. She did not lift her head at all; this time it was not from being unfocused, but from shame.

"By Elbereth! I do not know what comes _over_ you," Enguina continued, but her voice was now a murmur. "You have to st…"

Her voice faded out as she turned over one of Erumar's hands and saw the thorns, several of them large and deep within her skin. They protruded from her palms and Enguina's breath caught, watching the blood bubbling out of several of the holes. Erumar yanked her hand away from her, but it was already too late. Her knees gave out, far too weak; as the lightheadedness overtook her, the world spun. She thought her head was falling from her shoulders, and she heard someone crying aloud, but she did not know who or to whom; she tried to focus—Erumar needed to get to the Houses of Healing. Trying to lift her head was impossible, but she did try and open her eyes…and caught sight of her own hands, streaks of Erumar's wet blood on them. Her stomach spun, so did her head, and she dropped to her side in the thick grass, needing to lie down immediately. There was yelling and words exchanged, but Enguina did not understand any of it or what was going on. She focused on breathing and not vomiting, her knees and hands still shaking.

And then she felt someone pick her up into their arms, and she cracked her eyes, confused. They immediately caught sight of the blood on Erumar's hands again.

Enguina was out cold before the man who was carrying her made it one step.

* * *

The morning had been one of the longest two hour sessions of Aragorn's life, topped only by a few things. This morning though had definitely made the top ten…well, perhaps twenty. He could not think of a time when he had been so _bored_ with every single thing that was spoken at the meeting of the guard. The Captain who had been speaking was one from the garrison at Osgiliath and every word that came out of his mouth sounded as though it was being repeated from the last time Faramir was here. In fact, he had no idea why they had one of these meetings a month; their watches left Gondor well-protected; there was no reason to be there. Thank Heaven he had a moment of peace before he had to go up to the council table in Ecthelion for a brief meeting before lunch and then onward to the fourth level for him today.

Lowering himself to sit on the stone steps before his own throne, he groaned as he stretched his back. _I must be getting old…Arwen's body is not in this much pain today…it is only you, Aragorn._ He shook his head at his own thoughts, and could not help the little smirk that came to his face. How he had loved loving her so early this morning…being on his back beneath her on their bedroom floor, pressing her against the side of their bed, listening to her moan his name with passion as he touched and kissed her relentlessly…and completely exhausted them both. He swallowed, resting his head in his hands. _Control your thoughts, Aragorn. This is not the place to lose yourself in her again._ What he needed to do was splash his face with water and regain his self-control, but he was tired, and was not about to attempt to get to his feet.

No, instead, he leaned his head back upon the throne and closed his eyes, one elbow on his right knee, the other leg curled beneath him. There was no doubt in his mind why his back was aching today; and he _almost_ felt guilty, as he had looked at her in the morning light, about the marks he had left behind her ear and the back of her neck, the one on her shoulder that he had not meant to leave so deeply. His fingers had traced them this morning and she had caught his hand before he had turned to go, kissing his fingers before releasing him to the day. He had gently drawn the sheet up over her shoulders and left before he could not tear his eyes away from her pure skin.

Oh, it was so terrible to want your wife, was it not? They could not very well love one another every night…especially not like that, so heated and with her hands and lips driving him _mad_ and—

"Taking a nap are we, Elessar?" He cracked one eye and looked at Noldore, a bit of a smile appearing on his lips. It was a testament to how close he had been to dozing that he had not heard the man enter the throne room. "You look tired."

"Exhausted," he admitted, and though Noldore took a seat beside him, he closed his eye again.

"Are the ladies wearing you out already?" he teased. "They have been here a week complete now; they cannot be that much of a bother."

There it was, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, and Noldore was not even speaking of his wife! It was because he knew now, that every time he made love to her thoughts of the encouragement of others had to enter his mind, thoughts of their comments that love-making brought children and that after ten years he should already have an heir, like Faramir…or Éomer…and now _Legolas_ , for that matter.

He sighed and lifted his head. "Noldore…you are a good friend," he said, "so I feel as though I may speak plain."

"Please."

"You and your wife are married and still very much in love," he said. "Have you ever felt that other people cannot understand what you feel for her?" His heart was in his throat for a moment, and he had to clear it. "That no matter what you ever said to explain it to someone, you would never be able to find the words?"

Noldore sighed. "You are worried."

"Not worried," he refuted. "I love and adore her; she is the heart of my heart, and losing her for any reason would be the one thing in the world that I could never survive. That being said, are you hearing the same words that have been spoken around me for the past few weeks? Are you overhearing whispers about the…child again?" His voice was softer when he mentioned the child. "That we have been together ten years and it is long overdue? That people are…talking…"

"Elessar," he said gently, "I know this might seem flippant, but…when are the people not talking? Of course they think of it and imagine both of you with a child, especially the one you had. The people do want to see you happy—"

"I _am_ happy," he said, looking Noldore directly in the eye, but thinking of Nardur's very similar words. Then he thought of himself last night, his teeth on Arwen's ear. "I am _very_ happy."

"Of course you are," Noldore stated. "But when they think of it, they only remember the pain of loss, not the joy of your wedding. They are only people, after all." Aragorn stayed silent. "Come," he said, rising, "you would not want _everyone_ to see you in here sitting like this, looking utterly exhausted." He looked down at him with a bit of a smirk. "Others may start talking."

Aragorn snorted and his eyes flared with fire as he threw himself to his feet, ignoring the jarring of his back. "And what will they be saying I have not already heard?" he suddenly snapped. "I have been told I do not bed mywife _enough_! And that is the reason we are…we…" He could not finish, did not know how he had wanted to put what he had been meaning to say.

"Elessar," Noldore said softly, holding out a peace-keeping hand. He did not raise his eyes to the King's; he could not hold them.

"And if they saw me here, they could assume that I _have_ done, which should please them _immensely_! Most of all Nardur! Perhaps," he scoffed, his eyes dark now, "I should give them a _sight_!" His voice was picking up in volume, his anger finally finding an outlet and a place to shout. "Perhaps we should make love before the gates of Minas Tirith! Then they could _all_ see!" Nostrils flaring, he turned away from Noldore and stared out the nearest window, arms folded protectively against his chest, his fury pounding through his veins. As Noldore gathered his thoughts to respond, Aragorn's voice lowered, but not because he had regained his patience.

"Perhaps then they would stop _assuming_ and start _thinking_. But no…that is too much to ask, particularly of them."

Noldore came behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have been under much stress these last few weeks," he said with a calm voice. "I have watched it build in you; you are cracking under the weight of attempting to bear it."

The door to Ecthelion came open and Noldore dropped his hand from the man's shoulder. Several councilmen came in and turned towards the stairs, still leaving the two of them standing there. Aragorn turned back to look into his face, his eyes now their regular grey, no fire kindled in them; there was a deep sadness instead.

"After ten years, you would think I would be used to this," he said, his voice low so only the man before him could hear. "After ten years, it should come as no surprise to be talked of and to always be thrust into the sunlight for everyone to see." He shook his head. "I do not care what the council says about me; I have never cared. None of it matters; I have lived my life in the Wilds and thought of no man's opinion of me very highly. No…it is her _heart_ , Noldore. Do you understand? I cannot bear it."

"There is much weighing on you both," Noldore replied. "The people's words, the Lady Enguina now with child, the councilman's deeds, the long years…it will pass with time. Try to let the words go. Do not take them inside, to heart, as you have been doing, and do not lose sight of what matters most."

Aragorn lowered his head and wanted to sigh, trying to give his frustration to Ilúvatar. "Forgive me, Noldore. I seem to always be yelling at you these days."

"Not _at_ me," the old man said with a bit of a smile. "Around me, I think."

"My Lord!" called one of the guards from the doorway, and both of them looked up.

"What is it, Lifas?" Aragorn asked, walking towards him as several more councilmen were making their way inside. Lifas did not appear to look too worried, so it must not have been urgent.

"Captain Mennev wanted me to report to you," he said. "Princess Enguina and the Lady Erumar were taken to the Houses of Healing this morning."

"Was it serious?" he asked, his heart leaping into his throat. "Are they all right?"

"According to Captain Mennev, my Lord, both of 'em are fine. It seems they want to hold the Princess overnight; she fainted in the gardens this morning."

"And the Lady Erumar?"

"She had a minor injury, though I can't be sure they're not holding her as well."

"Does the Queen—"

"Yes," Lifas added. "She's with them now, far as I was told."

"Thank you for the news, Lifas. I will be sure to go to the Houses as soon as this meeting is finished." He was not completely relieved, but he assumed that if he seriously needed to worry, Mennev would have been far more urgent. He would stop at the Houses on his way to the fourth level.

"Of course, my Lord. Good day."

* * *

When Arwen hurried into the Houses of Healing, there was already a commotion going on in and outside of the room she correctly assumed was Enguina's. A Healer strode out, one who Arwen recognized quite well, muttering to herself. She was a large, shapely old woman, but she was as kind as she was knowledgeable.

"Just can't lie still that one! Doesn't she know that it's not good for a woman to fall over when she's with child? Or to lose consciousness? And she's an elf! She needs to mind 'erself, that's what."

"Hilta, what is the matter?"

"Oh, my Lady!" she said, laying a hand over her heart. "I'm sorry; you startled me!"

"Forgive me; I did not mean anything by it. I heard you talking; were you referring to the Lady Enguina? I came as soon as I heard they were—"

"Well, thank goodness! Perhaps you can make them see sense! The fair-haired one's impossible, and the dark-haired one doesn't speak at all! I don't know what the matter is, but there's some serious trouble in that room."

Arwen smiled at her description of Enguina, but was worried about her description of Erumar. "Can you tell me anything about what happened?"

"The Princess fainted in the garden, not half an hour past. The other had thorns in her arms from the roses, I believe. But you can go in, make no mistake. I'm sure one of them will talk to you."

"Thank you, Hilta. You are most gracious."

She turned and immediately went towards the room where she expected to find Enguina half out of bed, and Erumar sitting nearby.

"By Elbereth Gilthoniel," she heard Enguina's voice snarl, "if you do not let me up out of this bed, I will _tear_ —"

"My Lady, _please_! You need to lie—"

"Let me _go!_ "

Arwen hurried over and entered the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Enguina was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed trying to free herself from two Healers, one of which had clearly been trying to push her back down. Erumar was on the opposite side of the room, two Healers nearby her as well. One held Erumar's arm, but Arwen could not see what either of them were doing. She chose Enguina first because the Healers had their hands full with her; Erumar was not moving.

"Thank _Ilúvatar_!" Enguina cried upon seeing her. "Will you _please_ tell these tyrants that I am perfectly fine and I do _not_ need to lie down?"

Arwen raised her eyebrows. "'Tyrants?'"

"Fine," she hissed. " _Lovely ladies._ Whatever you would like me to say! Only _please_ —"

"I will not help you," she said simply, "until you explain to me why you fainted."

"I fainted from seeing Erumar's blood," she said, color in her face. "I was _fine_."

Arwen sighed, rolling her eyes. "You can let her go," she said, coming over to Enguina. The Healer looked like she was grateful, released her, and the two of them left as quickly as possible.

" _Thank_ you," Enguina grumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position and then attempting to swing her legs over the bed. "I was just telling them that I am perfectly fine and have no need to—"

Arwen reached over and tugged her legs back on, taking a seat beside her on the bed. "You can sit up…but you _are_ staying."

She groaned and decided she might as well lay back down on the bed if she really was going to be forced to stay here. "Arwen, you are such a pain in my—"

"Oh, enough," Arwen said, scoffing at her. "That may work on _them_ ; they do not know you. But _I_ do, and another thing, you do _not_ want to get up right now. You shall only faint again."

Enguina laid her hand on her stomach and grew paler just by thinking of it. "Eru in heaven, that was awful. I cannot look over there again and see…and see her hands."

"What in the world happened?" Arwen asked softly, looking over at Erumar.

"If we speak of it now," she said in the same undertone as Arwen, "the other ladies in this room may think she is out of her mind…and keep her here indefinitely." Arwen nodded her understanding.

"Stay here, please?" she asked.

Enguina sighed. "If I must."

Arwen rose and walked over to Erumar and the Healers, taking a place behind the chair that she sat in and gently laying her hands on her shoulders. "Erumar," she said softly, "why did you let Enguina terrorize those poor women?"

Erumar tried to smile, and as she did, Arwen felt the tension in her shoulders. She reached forward to wipe tears from her face. Arwen lifted her head and looked to the young woman holding Erumar's left arm.

"Cladien, she is in pain," she said softly.

"It is all right," Erumar interjected. She did not want to say that it mercilessly assaulted her senses and forced her to think about something other than her love for someone that existed only in her heart. No, if she said that she might frighten all of them, even if it was true. "I can handle it."

"I am sorry, my Lady," said the Healer Arwen had spoken to. "We need to remove these thorns and then we can put salve on the puncture wounds. Some of them are in very deep."

"Please, be gentle with her," Arwen said as she watched the other Healer take a small knife to the edge of one of the wounds, prying out the thorn beneath the skin. She bit her lip just looking at it, imagining what it must have felt like. She squeezed Erumar's shoulder beneath her hand.

"Arwen," murmured Erumar, "go and sit with Enguina. We can…talk if you like when they are finished."

"No," she said. "I want to stand here with you." She rubbed both her hands along Erumar's shoulders. "I want you to know I care about you, and so does Enguina."

"I do love you, Erumar," called Enguina from a few feet away. "Our thoughts are on you now; we want to be sure you are safe."

"I am in the Houses of Healing," she replied softly, "how much more safe can I become?"

"Enguina, rest your eyes until they finish Erumar's hands," Arwen told her, and Enguina rolled her eyes and sighed, reluctantly obeying. As she did, Arwen studied the hands that they were working on, the cuts, the scars, the amount of mutilation that Erumar had done to her hands over time. This was repetitive. Erumar needed something that would take her mind from Haldir...constantly. They needed to convince Erumar that she wanted to go to Eryn Lasgalen. That, at least, would occupy her mind.

It took a little while, but the two women finally finished with both of Erumar's hands. The older woman looked at Erumar sternly as she finished wrapping linens around the right one.

"My dear, I don't know what you've been doing with these hands, but you need to take better care of them. Think next time before you put them down on something sharp…you only have two." Arwen was unsure if the woman was attempting to be funny; if she was, no one laughed.

"Thank you," Erumar said, as Arwen rubbed her shoulders again. "I…will try."

"See that you do," the old woman replied. She rose. "The bandages need to stay on for a little while. You can put salve on them when they hurt and re-wrap them. They should close up in a day or so, and you're free to leave whenever you're ready." She looked up at Arwen. "My Lady, Talf suggested that the Princess remain overnight, just to be—"

"I am _fine!_ " called Enguina, pulling herself into a sitting position. "I will be six months with child in a few days; I am not _dying_. Honestly! I know my body, thank you. I will be—"

Arwen held up a hand towards Enguina and she fell silent, throwing her arms in the air. "Continue, please."

"But the Lady's free to make her own decision. I would suggest she remain for at least a few hours, but if she really wants to go, that will have to do."

"We will probably stay those few hours, but not overnight," Arwen said. "I do thank you for everything you have done to make my friends comfortable."

"Of course, my Lady. If you need anything at all, Cladien will be about."

The two Healers went out, leaving the three elves alone. Arwen rubbed her thumbs against Erumar's shoulders again. "Come along. We are headed to Enguina's side of the room while she stays down." Arwen looked at her pointedly as they came to her, taking seats on the bed around her. Enguina rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes, you make my life impossible."

"Enguina, these people are only trying to help," Arwen reminded her. "Perhaps they are a bit overcautious but you should give them a little grace. They only want to be sure you are well."

"I know." She laid back down so she could look at both Erumar and Arwen at the same time, Erumar sitting towards the front of her bed near the wall, her feet curled up beneath her. Arwen sat on the edge of the bed nearest the door. "My stomach does feel a little better," she admitted, "though I still believe that I am fine."

"We will go to the King's House for lunch," Arwen said. "In the meantime, this place is just as good a place to rest as any other, and it will give the Healers some peace." She turned slightly and looked at Erumar. "Please…tell me what happened." She reached out and laid a hand over her friend's.

"Tell us both," Enguina said. "I saw you walking and then all of a sudden—"

"I do not really wish to discuss it," Erumar said honestly, looking down at Arwen's hand covering hers. "I do not ever have much to say."

"We know you do not," Arwen added, "but you must."

"Talking about it _does_ help," Enguina said softly, thinking about her own dreams.

"No, no it does not. It makes it more real," she replied, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. Both of them knew it was not from the pain in her hands.

"It helps to have someone to help you bear the burden. Secrets help no one," Enguina said. Arwen felt suddenly uncomfortable, thinking of all the things she was hiding from Aragorn right now, even from her two friends sitting before her.

Arwen tilted her head. "Let us help you," she said earnestly. "All we want to do is help."

"I… _ache_ …with longing for him," she finally answered honestly, her voice breaking. "I _ache_ and it will not let me go; there is no relief, no way to get away from it." She choked back a sob, and Enguina took her other hand in both of hers. "That… _that_ was why I put my hands down! It does not make sense; I know it frightens you."

"It is easier," Arwen said, trying to fill in what she was not saying.

Erumar closed her eyes, her face full of shame, and turned it away from both of them. "The physical pain _is_ easier. When it happens, I am forced to focus on something other than my heartache, my grief, my loss. That is…that is why I…why I sometimes…" She could not admit to what she was really doing. "It helps, for those seconds, to take away the agony." Her voice was so quiet.

"Oh, Erumar…" Enguina whispered, "he is gone. We cannot get him back."

"I…I _know_ ," she groaned. "I _know_ ; do you think I do not tell myself a thousand times a day?" She choked on her tears again and sat back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as they spilled down her face. " _Oh, why? Why am I still here? Why must I still be tortured like this?"_

Neither of them had an answer, so they simply held her hands. Finally, Enguina spoke to Arwen alone. "I came upon her when she was in the garden," she said softly, "I found her by the stone wall pressing her hands down into the thorns of the roses. That is why she had them in her hands and arms."

Arwen nodded and looked into Erumar's face. "We understand the need you are driven to, andyour pain, but you have to try something else, Erumar. You…you cannot do this to yourself. You are going to drive yourself mad."

"I do not know what to do. Haldir haunts my every waking moment, my dreams," she murmured, trying to control her tears.

"That is not what he would have wanted for you," Enguina said gently.

"How can you know that?" she asked brokenly. "What if he expected me to die to be with him? How can I do that if no one will _let_ me?"

"I cannot believe that anyone would _expect_ such a thing!" she cried in response, her own eyes filling. "Elbereth, do you really think that Haldir would want you to die for him? That would be the last thing he would want! His entire life as Captain of the Wood all he sought was to protect his family, to protect _you_!"

"Enguina," she said, lowering her head to look into her face, "how can I believe that he would want me to make peace in this world, or—Eru forbid—find someone else to share my life with? I was his wife! I pledged myself to be his and his alone!" Tears fell on her face again in spite of her attempts to control them.

"But he is _gone_ ," Enguina said. "You have to let him go."

"Could _you_?" she asked, begged, looking between the two of them. "If you lost Legolas or Aragorn tomorrow could you find someone to fill the void in your heart?"

"No," Arwen said honestly, "Neither of us could do that."

"So there must be a reason you are _here_ , Erumar," Enguina said. "You have tried to be with him more times than I care to remember, and each time, Ilúvatar has not let you die." She gripped her hand. "There is a _reason_."

"If there was a reason, do you not think I would be a bit more at peace? Do you not think that I would have seen it by now? It has been ten years! Ten years!" Arwen and Enguina were silent, but they looked at each other; Erumar was not blind to it. "Are you going to say it aloud?" she said bitterly. "Are you going to tell me what both of you are thinking?"

"You _did_ see it," Enguina said softly. "You experienced that reason for nearly two years before it walked out of your life. You cannot stop thinking about it because you _know_ in your heart that it could be a reason…but…you…" She did not want to say the word; instead, Arwen did.

"But you are afraid," she said, kissing Erumar's hand. "And that is all right. You are afraid of what the consequences would be to bare your heart to become close to someone else. You are afraid of the possibilities, of what could happen. You are afraid to trust the One when you feel abandoned by him. And all of those feelings are fair; they make sense."

"No one is trying to convince you otherwise of that," Enguina agreed.

"I…I _am_ afraid," Erumar said, acknowledging that they were right. "I am afraid to start over, to begin again when I have lost everything. I am afraid that I will come to know someone…and they will decide they do not like what they see. I am _terrified_ of falling apart before others like this, especially those I would call my friends. I should be strong enough—"

"But you are not," Enguina said. "Erumar, I want you to be happy more than I want anything else in the world right now. In fact, more than I want Legolas to return from the Glittering Caves, and that is saying something." Erumar stared at her, and then Enguina said more kindly, "I miss Haldir, too, and he is your husband before he was my brother, but he would never, _ever_ have wanted you to be living like this, hurting yourself."

"Dear One," Arwen said gently, "when was the last time you felt a bit more at peace?" Erumar's face filled with shame and she looked away. "Oh, can you not be honest with yourself? Can you not be honest with us, your friends, who care about you and love you?"

She trembled once, hard, as though it cost her something, her eyes so tightly shut. "The last night Thranduil was in Ithilien," she moaned. "And that is _wrong_."

"No, it is not," Arwen said fervently. "He is a good man, Erumar; he could be a good friend."

"You _are_ friends," Enguina pointed out. "Even Legolas was amazed by some of the stories his father had shared with you that he has not shared in years. He has been as solitary as you, sharing with no one, bearing his own burdens…just as you have. Your life has been so silent, so lonely. You can _talk_ to each other. Is that not something you have wanted?"

"It…it is so _hard_ ," Erumar whispered, and Arwen nodded.

"If it was easy, would it matter so much?" she said. "You have a chance to live, Erumar, a chance to find a bit of peace. You should seek it out. The worst that could happen is that you arrive and you cannot stay. And then you have but one choice left: journey to the Havens. Peace there is promised to our people. The Valar will take away your pain," she murmured the words softly, "if nothing else will."

"I…cannot imagine leaving Middle-Earth, never seeing either of you or Aragorn or…" she could not say his name. She had not known Thranduil so long as them, but it suddenly struck her how sad she would be if she were to never see him again. "I would never see your children grow."

Enguina held her hand tightly. "You should give serious thought to taking Thranduil on his offer. You should give serious thought to traveling to Eryn Lasgalen. Such a journey to a place you have never been would give you more than enough to think about and you would have an opportunity to breathe, away from every _single_ thing that reminds you of him. I _know_ that you see him in my face, and that there are times you cannot look at me because it hurts so much."

"Oh, Enguina," she whispered brokenly, tears spilling over again. " _Forgive me!_ "

Arwen raised her other hand to wipe her face gently as Enguina continued, "I did not say that to make you so full of regret! I said it to speak the truth. Every single person here brings a reminder of what you have lost."

"In Lasgalen, there will be new faces, new friends to make, and the only connection to the life you have shared with the man you loved for so long will be you. Your own heart will be the only thing you will have to face," Arwen encouraged her. "Is that not enough?"

" _I am afraid_ ," she said quietly, and Arwen raised a hand to wipe her face.

"What you are terrified of is being alone in Lasgalen," Enguina said honestly, "and not only because it is a strange place. You are afraid of being alone with Thranduil and having him find you some night like this, to see you cut yourself to escape the grief. _That_ is something you deeply fear." Erumar looked away out of pain at the thought. "Erumar, please, let me encourage you. Thranduil will see your scars and he will grieve for them, but only because he would care for you, and he would not see them in everything else he will come to know about you as your friendship grows." She looked at Arwen and gave her a little smile. "Would Thranduil see one hair out of place on your head in all your beauty? No, and he is not such a fool to ask you to speak of something such as this when he knows about your hurts as well as his own."

"And he _does_ know," Arwen admitted. "From the night you fell by the wall, he understood your pain. He has been there, is _still_ there; perhaps both of you are meant to overcome together."

" _Arwen_ —"

"That did not mean that I am hoping you will spend your life with Thranduil. But perhaps you can help each other find some peace. Good friends often do that for one another."

Enguina smiled. "Yes, they do."

" _You_ are both my good friends," Erumar said. "Why can I not take peace from you?"

"I think we are too close to Haldir. Especially me," Enguina admitted. "I think getting away from it all will do you a world of good, and it would be a huge benefit to see Eryn Lasgalen in the meantime."

Erumar was silent for a moment, and then she sighed. "Enguina, your hold is _killing_ my hand."

"Oh Elbereth!" she laughed, releasing the hand was gripping. "Forgive me; I was thinking I was giving you comfort and here I was hurting you all the while."

"Forget it," she said. Then she lifted her head to look at her. "If I were to travel to Eryn Lasgalen, I would be going alone, yes?"

Enguina hesitated and then frowned. "Legolas and I have a strong desire to travel there, but with the baby coming, I doubt we will be able to travel in less than a few years." She grimaced. "I…do not know how to remedy that."

"There is nothing you can do," Erumar said. "I would have to travel alone then."

"There may be another possibility," Arwen interjected softly. "There have been rumors that there are Easterlings and orcs gathering on the Northeastern borders of Gondor. Aragorn has said that with the reports that will come in a month or so, it is very possible that he may have to ride out with a war party to drive them out." She met Erumar's eyes. "If that happens, you could ride out with him and go to Eryn Lasgalen from there—it would not be far to the main road that runs through Mirkwood. Though it is highly likely that Thranduil would meet you there himself. Either way, that would give you nearly a month to deliberate."

Erumar sighed again and rolled her eyes. "Deliberation is never good for making decisions that you think too much about. It would be better for me if they were leaving tomorrow."

Enguina laughed. "We shall encourage you a lot before that time! And you will be with both of us until then; we are going to keep an eye on you."

Arwen smiled. "There will be no running away from us now." Erumar actually smiled.

"Thank you both. This…is not easy. It never will be. I only wish I knew the right decision. I wish I knew it in my heart."

"Perhaps by then, you will."

Enguina sat up, looking closely at Arwen. The other elf did not notice at first, until Erumar looked over at Enguina. "What is the matter, Enguina? Why are you staring?"

"What is _this_?" she asked, raising her eyebrow and tugging Arwen's hair aside from her ear. Before Arwen could raise her hands, Enguina burst out laughing. "Or should I say _these_?"

Arwen pulled back quickly, but the damage was already done. She was blushing so furiously in her embarrassment that she pulled back so quickly and so hard that she nearly fell off the side of Enguina's bed. Erumar reached forward and grabbed her arm, holding her upright, even though it was difficult with her hands wrapped the way they were. Arwen tucked her hair back down where it had been, but in the meantime, Erumar had seen what Enguina was referring to.

"Do tell _that_ story, Arwen!" laughed Enguina, and Arwen shook her head, biting her lip and trying to prevent herself from turning even redder than she already was. Her ears were turning pink, which only increased the very obvious mark on her left one. The way her hair now fell covered her throat, but not her ear; her hair was caught behind it. She ducked her head, looking away from both of them.

"Enguina," Erumar chastised, "people do not enjoy being weaseled. Leave her be."

"Not a chance," she said firmly. "And _you_ would like to hear the story as well; do not deny it."

"You should _talk_ ," Erumar said, looking directly at Enguina. "I seem to recall someone who never even attempted to cover theirs and had many more. Even _Thranduil_ saw it," she said disapprovingly, "and pretended not to. You made a good choice when you left the room, and you should be grateful that he never mentioned it."

"Oh please!" Enguina laughed, blushing a bit herself. "It was breakfast, and I was _not_ thinking clearly. And I will be honest, I forgot _completely_ that either one of you were there. I suppose I was a bit mortified that morning, but I banished myself back to our bedroom." She giggled and shook her head. "You will have to forgive us that one, Erumar. I bet you and Thranduil had a good laugh."

"Neither one of us ever said a word, to tell the truth," she admitted. "Though I am certain he would have liked to, especially to Legolas."

Arwen was coming her fingers through her hair, tucking it over her ear and making sure it covered. "I had not planned to even leave the King's House today," she said in a small voice. "I thought you both would be coming for breakfast, so I…thought I would not have to leave."

"Do not be so ashamed," Erumar said gently. "You can see nothing."

"The ear _is_ a bit obvious," Enguina said truthfully. Arwen raised her hand and covered it, blushing again. "Stop worrying! Your hair is covering it now," she added, taking down Arwen's hand. "I only meant when it was not. You cannot really see the bruise on your neck." Her hand went there instead to cover it. "I was looking for it, honestly; no one else will be."

"The bruise will fade," Erumar said and then sighed. "The ear, you may have to hide for several days."

"I…do not want people to talk," Arwen said in the same voice.

"I was only teasing you, you know. I have no right to talk," Enguina laughed. "Furthermore, I see nothing wrong with it."

"It was not on purpose," she said, and she finally lifted her embarrassed eyes.

"Of course not," Enguina said, rolling her eyes. "Heaven knows how private you two are. Aragorn was probably staring at them this morning and apologizing."

"Unlike Legolas, who was probably proud of them?" guessed Erumar.

Enguina smiled helplessly. "Legolas is my husband. If it happened in a fit of passion, who am I to complain?"

"That is interesting," Arwen said, trying to find her voice again. "Considering you were angry with Aragorn when I first tried to explain being…sore."

She laughed. "That was _long_ before I understood."

"Mmm." But Arwen could not seem to draw her hand away from her neck. "I…just…did not want people to talk." She knew she was repeating herself, but it was because it was weighing on her.

Enguina laughed aloud. "Arwen, no one would even notice! How many of them look at you as closely as I have been looking at you for the last hour? No one but Aragorn. Beside all of that, none of them would be so uncouth as to talk about such things. You are a married woman; you are free to love your husband any way you choose, and he, you."

While Enguina was speaking, Erumar eyed Arwen. For the past week, she had seen and even heard some things as she was moving about the City, and not all of them had been pleasant. She could understand why Arwen would be hesitant about such things being spoken among the people. Once again, she held her tongue. She would not call Arwen out when it was clear that she was not going to speak of any of it.

"That is a very lovely thought, Enguina," Arwen said with a wry smile. "However, you would be surprised the number of conversations that take place in Minas Tirith that are neither couth nor understanding." Erumar could hear the ring of truth beneath the cynicism Arwen hid behind.

"I would not worry of them," Enguina advised her.

"I will…try to keep that in mind."

There were a few moments of silence, and then Enguina poked her in the arm. "So…spill it."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "What is it you want to know? It should be quite clear. I obviously did not hit my head off of something and cut the edge of my ear," she replied sardonically.

Enguina shook her head, grinning. "Honestly? It looks as though it hurt."

Arwen lowered her head, blushing again. "Truthfully, it did…but…I…my…my ears are so sensitive that I was…feeling something very different than the initial pain, and neither of us noticed I was bleeding." Her voice became faster as she explained. "We were a bit too focused on other things."

"What about your throat? Probably your shoulder as well, I should guess."

" _Enguina_ ," chastised Erumar, but Arwen shook her head, looking strangely guilty.

"To be honest, I do not even remember those."

Enguina giggled. "That is too funny."

"Oh, leave her be!" Erumar said, watching Arwen's blush deepen as Enguina laughed. "Stop meddling, Enguina."

Enguina grinned. "Oh all right. I just thought a little talk about our husbands would be fun."

"This is a bit too fresh," Arwen said softly, rubbing her hand over her neck. She sighed, giving a little grin as she thought about something else. "Do you remember, a few days before your wedding when Éowyn and I were telling you stories?"

She laughed. "I would never forget that night."

"You had asked if there was ever a time when Aragorn and I were 'caught.' Yes?"

She burst out laughing. "Yes, I remember the story Éowyn told about Ecthelion." Erumar shook her head with a rueful smile. "Why? Did something else happen?"

"I do not have a story that quite equals it…but it was recent, and it was a moment when I wished with all my might we had not been disturbed and yet, we were."

Erumar sighed. "How I hated those moments; though they were _very_ few."

Enguina smiled. "I have not yet had one. But please, Arwen, do tell. You seem as though you want to tell that story."

"Oh…because _you_ will laugh when I did not laugh at all!" Arwen replied with a chuckle.


	12. Chapter 12

It was after dinner at the King's House and the three ladies were gathered in the sitting room. Erumar was sitting in the rocking chair dozing as she had received very little rest last evening. Arwen had made a point of rewrapping her hands with salve after their meal and as they were paining her, she was doing very little with them. Arwen had assured her they would feel better in the morning. As Erumar was half-asleep, Enguina and Arwen sat on the divan.

"Enguina," Arwen said, reaching behind her towards the unlit fireplace, "I have been meaning to give you something." She tugged out a small package and handed it to her.

"Should I guess what it is?" she asked eagerly, and Arwen smiled.

"No, no…open it!" she said, and Enguina did.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling out a little tunic that was made of a very soft, warm fabric. "Oh, this is beautiful! Wherever did you find—" She gasped as she pulled out a few little socks and then covered her mouth. "These are the most adorable things I have ever seen!"

Arwen laughed at her. "You are hilarious."

"No, I am serious! I have not seen anything like these in the market! Wherever did you find them?" She stroked the fabric of the little tunic. "This will be so soft and warm for him in the winter, when he is a newborn."

Arwen shoved down that strange sensation she was once again feeling in her stomach; she had overanalyzed it enough. She was letting it be at what she assumed was worry over Enguina and the child. "No, they are not from the market or a shop-keeper here in Minas Tirith. I made them myself."

Enguina stared at her. "No! You could not have."

"Yes!" she laughed. "I truly did."

"You did not need to _do_ that! Oh, these are too _wonderful_!" She leaned over and hugged her. "If ever you were to stop being Queen, you could make clothes for a living. What a wonderful talent!"

Arwen shook her head. "Yes, because one day, I will simply stop being Queen. There will be more, but I am not finished with them yet."

"Oh, can I see? Please?" she begged, and Arwen had to show her the little pants she was making. She marveled at them and then proceeded to force her to tell her everything else she was intending. Giving Arwen a smile, she said, "I did not hear of any dresses in that list."

Arwen sighed quietly, and reached over to lay a hand on her womb. "I…just have a feeling. I do not think it will be a little girl. I just feel…it is a boy." She felt the movement beneath her hand.

"Did you feel that?" she asked, and Arwen nodded with a smile. " _He_ is not very strong then. I think your baby was quite a bit stronger."

The words were an intense and sudden stab through her heart. They had not been meant to wound; they had not been meant to make her think, taken back to that place, to that moment in time, but they did and it was _crippling_. She withdrew her hand slowly, whatever that feeling in her stomach was replicating like a disease, but this time it just made her sick. She wanted to heave, to run, to escape from this room where the heat felt as though it had increased a thousand-fold.

She did _none_ of those things. Instead, she gave her a half-smile as Enguina said, "You never know, it might be a girl. I think you could make the most beautiful dress."

"Oh…" she said, her voice a bit softer, "I…just have this feeling it is a boy. But," she added suddenly, "I would be happy to make you a dress."

She laughed. "I shall take your word for it. But you are far too kind, Arwen, to be making us all of these gifts. It is far too generous of you."

"Please," she said, "you are my dearest friend. I want to do something for you. There is not much that I can; whatever little I can do, I would do."

"You being here is enough," she said, reaching out and placing her hand against her cheek. "To know that you know that Legolas and I are to have a child is enough. Thank you so much! I cannot wait until Legolas sees them! He will have as much delight in them as I am having. Oh, I wish I could make clothes like this; I never learned how to do that."

"You can sew," Arwen said, "it would be no trouble for you to learn. You can quilt, which I cannot do. I am certain that there will be time to teach you."

"You would do that?" she asked surprised.

Arwen tilted her head and smiled. "Of course I would! One can only hope that they will fit when you finally dress the little one in them."

"I will make _sure_ they fit," she insisted. "When can we begin?"

"Well, tomorrow morning should be fine," Arwen said. "I am visiting with Gwae in the afternoon; I promised her granddaughter that I would. She is getting on in years and I have not seen her since before I traveled to Imrahil's country."

"Oh! Gwae, that kind old woman! I remember her. We can start here tomorrow and then perhaps Erumar and I can come with you."

"I do not think we should speak for Erumar, but Gwae would love if you were to come as well. She has such a good heart, though she can be as quick as a whip sometimes." She smiled. "Be prepared to be teased."

Enguina laughed, glancing over at Erumar. "I think perhaps I should be a good friend tonight and help Erumar home to bed where she will be more comfortable. She did not have much rest last night…and neither did _you_." She nudged her and Arwen shook her head.

"Close your mouth," she muttered, but with humor. "I will admit: I am exhausted tonight. I hope…I can only hope I will sleep this night away with no dreams or thoughts to keep me awake."

"Unless they are pleasant," she teased, rising. "Shall we meet here for breakfast?"

She smiled. "Are you going to be early?"

"Arwen," she scoffed, "when have you known me to be early?"

"So nearly _after_ the breakfast hour then?"

"Let me give Erumar some time to sleep in; then we shall be over."

Arwen laughed softly. "Whatever you need to encourage yourself."

Enguina grinned at her and moved to Erumar's side. "Sleep-head, it is time for bed." She shook her gently, and the elf blinked so groggily that Enguina had to laugh. "Will I have to carry you to the guesthouse?"

"Just…give me a moment," she muttered, dragging her hands across her eyes. Climbing to her feet, she looked over at Arwen. "Are you two finished already? I did not even realize I was asleep, and neither of you woke me to talk." Her tone accused them.

"You were exhausted," Arwen said soothingly. "There was nothing you missed, and whatever you think you missed, we shall speak of tomorrow." She stood and hugged her and Enguina both.

It only was a few minutes later that the two elves were out the door and she stood in the sitting room, staring at the rocker. She could remember, in her mind's eyes, sitting where Erumar had sat, her womb at six months, Aragorn stroking her hair as Enguina sat on the divan. She resisted the urge to touch her stomach, to feel it and remember what it was like. She swallowed hard. But she found herself wandering the room, dragging her hands along the backs of the furniture a bit blindly until she made her way to the rocking horse in the corner. Stroking along the cherry-colored wood and the woolen mane, her hands continued the motion without thought for so long; she was unsure how long she stood there like that. Finally, she sank to her knees beside it and lay her head on the leather saddle, closing her eyes.

 _Oh, Ilúvatar…oh my Father…this is a burden I have borne for too long. Take it, please! Do not let me dwell here, on this dark path, alone in the silence and the stillness. Help me; I know that I will soon be lost in the pain of that haunting, devastating memory. Please, give me your peace…please, be near me…please, shelter me, cover me, and shield me, Breath of Heaven, light in my darkness…_

She shuddered once, and turned her head, pressing her forehead against the seat. She was not sure how long she was there; probably minutes, though it felt longer, before she heard the front door click. Should she have moved so he did not see her there? Perhaps. But it made little difference. This he would know about; this was a pain she could never hide.

Aragorn saw her clearly as soon as he opened the door; there was a direct line-of-sight from the doorway to that corner of the sitting room. He could see her there and the only thing he did before he went to her was remove his boots. With bare feet, he walked to her and crouched down beside her. He laid a hand on her back and said nothing at first. She was not crying; he was unsure what that meant. He could not read her thoughts; they were a jumbled mess. _Arwen, Arwen…let me in. Tell me…talk with me. Beloved, feel my concern; something weighs on you so heavily. Reach out to me._

She obeyed. It did not take long for him to recognize the weight of the loss she carried, the guilt of it, the attempt at trusting in Ilúvatar for every need. She always _wanted_ to believe; it hurt her to fall away even in the slightest sense.

"What drew you here tonight?" he asked her softly.

She shook her head. "I wish I knew." She tilted her head and looked into his face as he rubbed his hand along her back. "I feel…so _strange_. It might have been something Enguina said…it might…it might be more," she admitted, but he could tell it cost her something to admit that. He could see it behind her eyes: there it was, the something she was hiding.

"More?" he asked.

"Please…do not press me," she said her voice dropping to a whisper. _If you push, I may shatter._

 _I will be here to keep you together. I swear it with every breath in me._

"I know," she said, her eyes closing, and he could see the exhaustion on her face then. "But I do not have the strength or presence of mind for this conversation." _I know we need to have it. I want to tell you…I want you to know…I am keeping secrets, Aragorn…but please, one more day… I know we need to talk._

 _We do._ She felt the edges of guilt press in around that thought, but it was not hers…it was _his_. Something was clearly still bothering him as well, something that he had been avoiding, and she had barely noticed with all that was happening inside herself that she was trying to discern.

 _Forgive me._

His hand rose from her back to her neck as he cupped it gently, laying his thumb along her jawline and rubbing it against her skin. She opened her eyes again and studied him for a few moments, the slight curve of his lips, the gentleness in his grey eyes, and the peace in his hands. It still amazed her that last night the same hands that had brought her such pleasure could bring her such peace, just by the simple stroke of his thumb along her face. All those things she saw, but she also noticed the tiredness around his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. She gave him a little smile.

"You look as tired as I feel," she told him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"At least I am not alone then. It was a _very_ long day." He had never made it to the Houses before lunch, and then he had learned that Enguina had been released.

"After a very long night, beloved."

 _I have no regrets about that_. He let his fingers trace the bruise on her neck and directly against her hairline where Enguina did not see, his eyes lying on the edge of her ear. The mark had darkened on her during the course of the day, though the ones on her neck were beginning to fade. "I hope that does not hurt too much."

"I do not move my ears on their own," she teased, but her voice was quiet. She lifted her head and then her chin a bit defiantly. "And I do not care if it hurt. If I had any strength left, I would beg you to do it again, to be as carried away as you were last night."

"You were what carried me away, desire of my heart, and there would be no need to beg. You kindled a fire…I could only allow it to burn bright. There was no controlling it. Perhaps a bit more self-control was warranted."

"No, no…not more," she murmured, "less."

He chuckled softly. "Oh, I do not think that would be possible."

"You are usually _so_ in control," she said. "I am in awe when you are not."

He thought of this morning in the throne room before Noldore and how angry and frustrated he had been. Thought of Nardur and his comments, thought of the speech he had overheard from nearby councilmen and… _Vändir._ Suddenly, he felt less in control than he had ever been.

"It pleases me," he said softly, "when I am not in control around you. It is a welcome relief, from everything else that may matter, to take my time to focus on the one thing that matters most." He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her temple. "Come to bed, beloved. We will take some rest, and awake refreshed. A new day will rise."

He stood and extended his hand; she took it, of course, and rose to follow him into their bedroom, her fingers trailing through the horse's mane as she left it behind.

* * *

Enguina looped her arm through Arwen's as the two of them made their way down the quiet backstreet. The morning had gone exactly as they had planned, and though Enguina had not made her way through many stitches to sew the small tunic together, she had enjoyed every moment of beginning to learn from her friend and they had enjoyed many laughs. Erumar had spent time with them as well, but then after lunch she had agreed to let them go alone to visit Gwae. Arwen had encouraged her to come, but she had easily slipped away, telling them quite secretively that she had something she needed to do. Both of them were very interested, but she refused to say another word and the three parted ways at the King's House. Enguina thought that suspicious, but Arwen had shaken her off.

"Congratulations, Lady Enguina!" called a woman from a nearby doorway, and Enguina smiled at her, giving a wave. "May your child be blessed!"

"Thank you so much," she replied and the woman disappeared as they continued walking. The glow of being so rejoiced over, even after being in Minas Tirith so long, still hung over her. She squeezed Arwen's arm and watched her friend smile a little bit. She studied her a moment. "You have been a little quiet today."

"Quiet?" Arwen asked, glancing over at her.

She nodded. "Yes, I noticed it even this morning. You did not sleep well last night, and I know you were nearly as exhausted as Erumar before we left, though for different reasons." Arwen looked away towards the house they were walking towards. Enguina was right of course; though there had been moments of laughter today, she had been fairly quiet. She _was_ tired; last night had not been full of rest as she had hoped it would have been. "Arwen?"

"No, you are right," she said softly. "I feel strange. Something has been troubling me—"

"What is it?" Enguina asked immediately, worried.

"Do not worry," she said easily. "It is nothing to be concerned about. I cannot really place it myself."

"What is it like? A dream? A vision?"

She hesitated. "A feeling…and a dream."

Enguina's other hand drifted over her abdomen, and Arwen did not think she even knew she was doing it. "Not a bad omen, correct?"

"No, nothing like that," Arwen insisted. "Enguina, everything is _fine_. Stop your fretting."

"Forgive me. I am concerned for you."

Arwen nodded and gave her a little smile. "I know you are. Now, let us go in and see Gwae, yes?" As they walked up the steps to the door, Arwen thought about her 'feelings.' Restlessness? Worry? Dread? Why _would_ she feel this way? She could not _place_ it! There was something _else_ that was plaguing her and it was none of these things. And then last night again, though the dream had been a bit different…that dark-hairedwoman that she could not seem to shake away, haunting her thoughts. Always, always the feeling of dread. But that was not the one that centered on her when she was walking about Minas Tirith with Enguina…

Ormal, Gwae's granddaughter, opened the door even before they had come to the top step. She was delighted they had come and expressed it as soon as she saw them. "Oh!" she cried, grasping Arwen's hands. "My grandmother will be so thrilled to see you!" She whispered because Gwae was not far down the hall in the sitting room, and she did not want her to know who had come.

"It is good to be here," Arwen replied, stepping into the house. Behind her, Ormal recognized Enguina immediately and reached out to grasp her hands as well.

"My Lady, may Ilúvatar bless the child as he has clearly blessed your marriage!" she said, laughing with Enguina. "How wonderful to be with child already! How blessed you must feel, and Prince Legolas, too! Eru had blessed you indeed."

"Thank you so much, Ormal," she said with a wide smile.

"How have you been feeling?"

"Very well indeed! I cannot complain at all so far."

She laughed. "Oh, blessed you are in that as well! I was ill nearly every day in the beginning with my daughter, though, you are six months?"

"Yes, six months," Enguina said with a smile. "I cannot believe how quickly the time is passing. You have children then as well?"

"Oh yes," she replied. "My two sons are both apprenticed, and my daughter is pledged to the baker's son—"

"Not the shop with those muffins?" Enguina asked in awe, and Ormal laughed at her expression.

"The very same!" she said. "I will be sure to have some sent your way in a day or so."

"Oh no, I could not ask you to do that!"

"It would be my pleasure!"

"That is too kind of you, Ormal," added Arwen. "Congratulations on your daughter's wedding; that is wonderful news. How is Gwae?"

"Oh," she said, rather loudly in a bored voice, "she is getting terribly old and disoriented as she ages. It is quite awf—"

"Ormal?" cried a loud voice from the other room. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one, grandmother!" she teased. "It is a fantasy of your imagination."

"Now see here, girl! I'm not hearing voices!"

The three of them laughed as Ormal nodded them towards the room. "I will bring in some tea, my Lady," she murmured, and she set the kettle on as the two of them headed down the hall into the other room. An elderly woman with long grey hair sat near a window. It bordered the fourth level, and she could see the entire Pelennor; it was a beautiful view indeed. The woman turned to them and her eyes lit up with a sparkle.

"Well if it isn't the dearest elf I know," Gwae said as Arwen leaned down to take her hands and kiss them. "My dear, how _are_ you? I wondered, since your entrance to the City a month ago, when you would come for a visit!" A kiss like that never satisfied the old woman, and she pulled Arwen down to kiss her cheek.

"It is good to see you, Gwae."

Immediately, the woman looked for Enguina as she still held Arwen's hands. "Ah, and the Lady come to visit her dear old friend. It's been so long since you went away with that handsome Prince!"

As Arwen made sure her ears were covered by her long hair, Enguina giggled. "Gwae," she teased, "it has only been three years! You make it sound like forever."

"Three years _is_ forever in the life of an old woman!" she laughed. "Sit down! Sit down!" Both of them took seats in the room, Arwen closest to her of course, Gwae still holding her hand. "I watched from the window here as you entered the City," she added to Enguina. "I cannot seem to get enough of this view, no matter how many hours I sit here. Minas Tirith has such beauty."

"I agree," she said. "Do you not have much chance to see it anymore?"

"No, no," Gwae replied, "but that is what happens when you age!" She turned her head to Arwen. "And you, my dear, how was your journey to the South? Was it everything you thought it would be?"

"Gwae, the beauty of it is difficult to imagine and almost impossible to describe. Oh, the Sea," she whispered. "I have never seen an ocean, water so flawless and full of so much life…and _whales._ I have never seen a whale before…"

"I wish I had when Legolas and I were there!" cried Enguina. "We looked so diligently, but we never saw one."

Arwen smiled. "You will have many more opportunities, I am sure." She looked back to Gwae, "And the Haradrim are so very different from any people I have ever met, such strange customs and way of life. They have these great beasts, called Mûmakil; I had never seen anything so huge! Great and grey and frightening, but they can be gentle like a horse when their masters care for them." She shook her head in awe. "They were an amazing sight to behold, such wonders of Ilúvatar's creation."

"Yes and peace arranged! Your husband's work, I've no doubt," she said with a smile.

Arwen smiled. "He would say with Prince Imrahil."

"Of course he would! Humble as they come. That is what makes him a _great_ King, not just as good one."

"Amen," Enguina said softly and Arwen nodded in agreement.

"And? What else of the journey? Did you get some time _alone_ with that husband of yours?"

Arwen blushed. " _Gwae_ …"

"Just thought I'd ask! Don't get so embarrassed! I'm an old woman and have to live through others!" Enguina burst into giggles as Arwen shook her head. "Come on, you can tell me!"

She sighed, but her blush deepened. "Not as much as I had hoped."

"And what of _you_ my dear? How does your marriage bed go?"

" _Gwae!_ " Arwen cried, staring at her with wide eyes as Enguina laughed. "I am so glad that I have never brought the King here with me; you would embarrass me terribly before him."

"Ach! I am old, and you could make some excuses for me! What is the duty of the old if not to embarrass the young anyway?" she laughed. "Now, how does it go?"

"I will say that it goes very well, indeed," Enguina said, smiling.

"That's right!" she said smiling back at her. "Bless me, _you_ are with child! My eyes are _definitely_ going. Well, indeed! I can see the glow all about you now. There is always a circle of joy around an expectant mother," and her eyes darted to Arwen before she focused on Enguina again. "And how far along are you?"

"Six months," she said, laying a hand on her belly. "I think I only just began growing!"

"You are small," she agreed, "but you'll sprout soon enough. It's amazing how fast they grow. And the Prince, his father? Excited?"

"I cannot even begin to describe how much," she replied, thinking of Legolas. "I cannot stop smiling sometimes; you are right about the joy."

"Yes, I remember seeing it around my granddaughter, and soon, Eru willing I live long enough, I may see it on my great-granddaughter. She is to be married soon; did Ormal tell you?"

"Oh yes," Enguina replied. "We were very happy for her." Ormal came in then and set up the tea; she did not remain long, leaving the two elves to visit her grandmother and keep her company. Gwae sipped a cup and then looked pointedly at Enguina.

"Where is the Prince? You traveled here with just the company of your friend? I haven't seen him in so long I forget what he looks like! He was never very far from Minas Tirith, but he didn't have you to steal him away either."

Enguina smiled. "He traveled over two months ago to visit Lord Gimli of the Glittering Caves."

"Ah, the dwarf! I remember seeing him and his kinsmen on the wall."

"I wanted to go with him, but—"

"Not in your condition. Long travels should be taken after a child, not during," she chided her. "Would you rather a healthy child or to see your friend?"

"I feel wonderful," she said honestly. "In fact, there is very little difference."

"Better to be safe. Will you be having the child here?"

"I do not know. When Legolas comes, we shall discuss it. I am quite restless without him here."

Gwae laughed. "Not unlike the Queen here," she teased. "I should like to meet the King in person; consider it this old woman's dying wish to see a handsome, kingly man. Though I'm not surprised he hasn't come with you; he has many duties. I am certain that he's more handsome in person!"

"He _is_ handsome," Enguina added, lending a hand to Gwae's enthusiasm. "If you like mortals with hair on their face!" She giggled. "Give him some due praise, Arwen, or Gwae will think otherwise!"

Arwen blushed again, and Gwae laughed. "Why don't you tell us how handsome he was the night of your ten year celebration? What I wouldn't give to have seen you dancing together there! Or...perhaps even a few days ago?" She had a twinkle in her eye and Arwen blushed again and looked away, her body flushing with the heat of even the thought of their love-making.

"I have no idea what you are speaking of," she replied.

"You most certainly do," laughed Enguina.

Arwen blushed more strongly as Gwae laughed. "You are…do not be so…"

"Nosy?" she cackled with glee. "All right, keep your secrets! I only thought you could give an old woman something to gossip about!"

 _Oh, my dear meddlesome friend…there is enough of that without your aid._

Arwen gave her a little smile. "I think that perhaps you could invent your own stories and that would be quite enough to settle your friends."

They remained at Gwae's house for nearly an hour talking and laughing, before Arwen began to notice the woman was getting tired. It was time for them to be going, and Ormal came in at just that moment to take their tea cups. Enguina offered to assist her in clean up, and she followed her from the room, Arwen watching Gwae nearly dozing in the chair as she sat. She smiled to herself and stood, leaning down to kiss the old woman on the forehead.

Before she could turn, she felt a hand touch hers and take her fingers. Looking back, the smile on her face became one of concern as she saw Gwae looking at her with such profound sadness that she thought the woman surely must be thinking of her own mortality or that someone had just died.

"What is the matter?" she asked with much apprehension. She knelt down at her side and the woman held her fingers so tight.

"Oh my child," she whispered, tears in her very serious eyes as she met Arwen's. "I had hoped, with all my heart, that I would be seeing that glow upon you again."

Dread flooded into Arwen's heart; the same dread of her dreams. Somewhere inside her, she knew she should brush it off, she should let it go, credit it to an old woman who did not know what she was saying…but she was so serious and so full of sadness that Arwen could not turn away.

"Gwae…what…what do you mean?" Even as the words left her lips, she thought of that feeling in her stomach that she could not place as it tangled into knots of worry and doubt mixed with hopelessness. Uncertainty flooded her. She should not have asked; she should _not_ …

"Your closest friend is with _child_. I have prayed with a heavy heart, for _so long_ that it would be you. I have prayed that Ilúvatar would grant a dying woman her greatest hope: that you would bear a son. How…how you must feel that it is not _you_. Oh, how I wish it was!"

Frozen, Arwen could only stare at her in shock. Gwae was completely serious in her sorrow and conviction that Arwen was not the elf with child, that she was not the one glowing with delight, having gifts bestowed on her as she walked about the City. How…how _must_ she feel that it was not her? How _did_ she feel? That _feeling_ in her stomach that she could not identify suddenly had a name…something she had never had any reason to feel her entire life, something she could barely comprehend.

How… _strange_ it was. How strange that she had never made the connection before that the feeling in her stomach was happening in tandem with her time spent with Enguina. How strange that she had never been able to name that feeling inside her at the telling of the tale, at dinner, at those times when others _touched_ Enguina, _blessed_ Enguina, _prayed over_ Enguina. How strange that it took a very old friend to say the words, 'I wish it was you' for her to feel what she had struggled to deny since the moment she had heard Enguina speak the words of her pregnancy.

"How you must feel!" Gwae said again, her eyes closing with a sigh. "Can you look at her and not think of your own little one that might be here right now if not for that terrible accident?"

 _Oh…oh, god…make it stop. Please, Gwae not one word…not one more word! I beg you!_

Jealousy…Envy…Bitterness…Resentment…Jealousy…Envy… The words poured over and over through her head and heart as Gwae squeezed her now cold hands, her flesh clammy at the sudden torrent of feelings that she could now identify. With every word, Arwen's heart clenched tighter, cracking just a little more under the weight she had borne for so long already. It was so tight she could hardly draw breath.

"To think that it might have been your child running about the streets…I do not think I could _bear_ it. I could not bear it if my dearest friend were having a child when I have struggled for so long."

Arwen's eyes closed in pain of their own volition. The words struck her with a force so powerful that she would have been driven to her knees were she not already there. Words that were expected to comfort her were _strangling_ her; they were torture! Each one burned its way through her brain, scalded her chest, sickened her stomach, and fractured her heart.

 _Ilúvatar, make…make it stop…shield, fortress…rampart…everlasting arms…please…please…_

Gwae patted Arwen's hand. "Oh, there, there, my child. But I will keep praying. I will keep praying for you to bear that lovely man a son. I will pray for you and your husband, that whatever has happened would be healed."

No, the old woman had no idea of the effect of her words, and it was all Arwen could do to nod numbly and keep her mouth closed so she did not lose it then and there as she had not in months. It was all she could do to not tear her hand away; it was all she could do to stomach the sight of Enguina when she returned, the six-month roundness of her womb like a slap in the face to someone who had been beaten too many times; to shove down the agony, the jealousy, the deep sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her. To remember to breathe was just as much a chore as walking. She nodded, she smiled, she may have even given some non-committal answers on their walk back up to the guesthouse to meet Erumar. Thankfully, Enguina was talking about their visit and some of the funny things Gwae had said, so she barely noticed that Arwen was in such a state. And in every face, did she finally recognize what she had been seeing all this time that she would not have deciphered on her own.

 _Pity_. In each face there was joy for Enguina and pity for her…and in some cases, open contempt. How she had never noticed when walking through the city before, she had no idea; it was impossible to miss! Oh, simply _everywhere_! She saw it in the eyes of the woman who carried her son past them; heard it in the mutterings of two young wives on the corner on the fifth level; noticed it in the expressions of the guards near the sixth level who saw them passing by. Every eye was the same.

 _Why not you?_

The words, expressions, looks, everything from the past month bore down on her like an avalanche. The words of Nardur about letting Aragorn bed her, the talk of the apothecary's daughter to give her herbs that would help, the murmurs in the street, the gifts to Enguina, her nightmares, the blessings on the child…how could she have been so blind? How could she have set it aside for so long? She could barely _walk_ beside Enguina, such was the suddenness of her agony; she was unable to experience anything but the blind despair that smothered her heart.

She was exhausted beyond anything she had ever known by the time they had reached the guesthouse; her knees so weak they had begun to shake. The load she bore dragged her down so hard she felt that she was crawling through the streets by her hands. Enguina shoved open the door, calling for Erumar with joy, announcing they were back. Arwen could not bring herself to step over the threshold, to speak, afraid that even a single word would give her away, afraid that even a sound would come out wrong. How _could_ she ever explain? How could she _ever_ tell the truth about what she was thinking, _feeling_? Oh, how _wrong_! How despicable she was! Horror at her own feelings created an even larger burden, and she had to rest her hand on the frame of the door to make herself stand upright. She had to get out of here… _now_.

"Arwen and I have just returned from Gwae's," she heard Enguina's voice report and Arwen's brain became trapped on the name. It was better if she did not mention it; _never_ mention it; never speak of it or her again. Whatever else Enguina had said was completely lost in her mess of thoughts and feelings.

"Really?" asked Erumar, coming into the main hall with a smile. "I am glad that you were amused by her…" She trailed off, suddenly seeing Arwen still standing in the doorway. She could not meet the elf's eyes for Arwen's were trained upon the wall, her hand still clutching the doorframe. "Arwen?" she asked, and at the tone of her voice even Enguina turned. "What is the matter?"

 _Find your voice!_

"I…I am not feeling well," she replied, not looking either of them in the eye, her voice soft but clear. "Something…suddenly…not well…"

"Do you want to lie down?" she asked, immediately worried. Enguina stepped forward.

"Yes, please, you can have my bed," Enguina suggested, and Arwen rocked back slightly, trying to avoid being touched.

"No, I think I will return to the House for a little while," she said.

"We will walk you," Enguina said, stepping forward, and Arwen shook her head once, taking a step backwards out of the house. Enguina reached for her arm, and Arwen felt a wave of nausea, sorrow, even anger, wash over her so suddenly it was all she could do not to retch right there.

"No, you have walked enough today," she said stiffly, stepping back far out of reach. "I need to go; I will send for you for dinner if I am able."

This was so startling, so abrupt to both of them that they barely knew how to react. In fact, they could think of no response until they had followed her out onto the front steps as she had turned and was moving away.

"Surely, Arwen, you are not well," Erumar said. "Please, stay here with us for—"

"I will be well," she said, but she did not turn back, her eyes closed as she kept going, forcing her feet not to stumble. They were worried for her enough and she did _not_ want them coming after her.

"Arwen—" Enguina said, beginning to go down the stairs after her, heart racing with worry, but Erumar caught her arm.

"We hope you feel better, Arwen," she said, and Enguina turned to stare at her, shaking off her arm. The two of them stared holes into the elf's back as she disappeared out of sight.

"Why did you stop me?" Enguina cried, glaring at Erumar suddenly. "There was clearly something _wrong_!"

"Yes," Erumar said, looking down into her face, "and she clearly wished to be alone."

"I do not care! She was unwell!"

"You _should_ care," Erumar reminded her. "She is your closest friend, and in another moment both of us would have made her angry."

"She _never_ left me alone," Enguina insisted. "She would have never let me turn my back on her if our situations were reversed! She would have pried it out of me tooth and nail before she would have let me leave. Just as she did with the nightmares."

Erumar was not going to argue for two reasons. One, she knew Enguina was right; and two, she, at least, knew when to leave people alone. Knowing that Arwen was very likely in that place just then, she would have left her alone because _she_ would have wanted to have been left alone. "Think back to your visit, Enguina. Did anything happen while you were with Gwae?"

"She seemed fine!" Enguina stated, shocked. "She was a bit quiet on the way home, but perhaps that was because she was already not feeling well. But why did she say nothing? She could have told me!" Enguina rolled her hands into fists. "Sometimes she frustrates me so!"

"She did not want us asking her," Erumar said. "That much is certain. But she was so pale…"

"She was, was she not?" Enguina asked worriedly. "Do you think we should stop by early for dinner and see if she is all right?"

"No, she was…quite clear on that as well. If she really is very ill, she will be indisposed anyway." She shook her head, tugging Enguina's arm. "Come inside and show me whatever these other Gondorians gave you on your way, and then we will make our own plans for dinner this evening. I have a feeling that she will not be sending for us tonight."

Enguina came back up the steps to stand beside her. "I…do not understand how someone can feel so suddenly ill, in the middle of the summer."

"She is mortal now; things are different," she admitted, though she wondered at it herself. She debated the most about Arwen being truthful in the least way. "I hope being ill is all it is."

"I know that she is excellent at keeping secrets," Enguina said softly, "but I think we can weasel it out of her. I am certain of it."

Enguina turned to go inside and Erumar glanced once more in the direction of Arwen's departure. "I think some things are better left un-weaseled, Enguina."

* * *

Choking with despair, Arwen stumbled up the front steps to the porch of her safe haven and fell into the kitchen, the door closing behind her. She thought she would at least make it to the sitting room, but the sight of that _damn_ _rocking_ _horse_ just swept her legs out from underneath her. She did not even make it to the threshold, but collapsed to her knees before it, her breath coming out in sobs, pain splitting across her breast threatening to tear her in two. Her hands clutched her chest as her body fell forward across her knees until her forehead touched the floor.

Her loss invaded her every thought and every part of her body, her soul. The comments of the people, the sight of Enguina, the terrible awful jealousy that ate away at every part of her. Oh, the agony of the loss they had suffered swept in full force, and the horrible words that many had told her, even the Healers—it was possible she would never bear another child. The thought had been as blight in her soul since that time, the terrible fear that there would never be another, eating away at her heart. This nightmare was not a dream…it was _real._

Her heart was breaking. " _Ilúvatar! Please…please…take this away! Where is your hope?_ " she whimpered, her face pressed to the floor. " _Where are you?! I cannot see; there is so much darkness! Help me! Help me, please!_ _What have I done? What have I done that has made you look away, that has taken your kindness? Can you show us no mercy? Where…where is the boy you showed me? He should be here in my arms and they are empty!_ "

 _Why? WHY?!_

Every time she met Aragorn's eyes, she had let her hope live through him. He _was_ her hope; he held her when the nights were darkest, when she woke up screaming. He kept her through this pain, telling her that she was his only love, his light, the one thing he wanted most in the world. She had hoped with him that there would come another day when they were ready; that they would be blessed again by Ilúvatar. But here, instead, even worse, Enguina had come and _she_ was with child! Her dearest friend, filled with the one thing that she so desperately craved. Ilúvatar had chosen to bless Éowyn and Faramir, and Legolas and Enguina…what of _them_? What had they done so terribly wrong that they had fallen out of favor with the Most High?

Oh no, it was nothing Aragorn had done; he could do no wrong. It was _her_ ; jealousy gnawed at her chest and she sobbed, yelling at it to depart from her forever. Nausea plagued her; it was _wrong_ to be angry with Enguina! It was _wrong_! How _dare_ she…her dearest friend…and she could not even look at her? She was full of bitter resentment, and that made her sick. Her fingers tangled in her own hair and pulled, as though the physical pain would take the edge from the emotional one. She swayed back and forth, rocking now in her grief.

" _Ah_ ," she moaned in pain, " _what must I do? We have prayed for so long…ten years, Father!"_ Her voice cut out and she could no longer speak for the sobs that overtook her.

 _Ten years we have begged and pleaded with you to give us the desire of our hearts and yet here I am! Is there nothing I can do to please you? Is there nothing I can say, beg, plead that will bend your ear to hear my weeping? We waited so long to be together, Aragorn and I…now, I cannot give him the one thing that he wants deep in his heart. I…I cannot bear him a son! What have I not done? What more must I do?_

Oh, it was more than that though; it was the words and the thoughts of the people that were a crushing weight. The loss of the babe, the possibility of being barren forever, the thought of Aragorn living out the rest of his days without an heir for the throne without a child that he could teach and raise to be so, _so good_ …like _him_. She could have buried this away; she _could_ have, and only been forced to deal with the demons at night, but _no_ …they hunted her now and made her heart yearn for what she did not have that Enguina now did. The picture of Aragorn gazing in wonder on Enguina the night of her arrival, staring at her with utter delight— _how she had wanted him to look at her that way again!_ To see the wonder on his face when he touched her, to see the love in his eyes as they spoke of the things they would teach the child, to have him touch her belly and press his lips to her skin all the while knowing that she carried something that was precious to him. _God, how she wanted it!_

Her shoulders bore a ton of granite, holding her to the wooden floor and making it nearly impossible to move. How she _hated_ herself for feeling this way; her intense jealousy of Enguina, her failed attempts to hope in Ilúvatar, the overpowering guilt that it was her fault there was still no child that would bless Aragorn's life and their marriage. Oh! _How_ she had failed him! And she wept harder, her tears pooling on the wooden floor in her despair.

 _Please! Please! Please, Ilúvatar, Creator, Sustainer! I cry out to you! Do not let me languish here in grief and agony; do not let me be barren! Please let me bear Aragorn a son!_


	13. Chapter 13

It was dark outside, which meant he had missed dinner again and he should have been home quite a while ago. The window of _The Oliphant's Tusk_ was gray and fogged, but he could see the sky well-enough. He had thought the alehouse was a strangely named place until after he had followed Hildanir through the front door—the bar's rail was made completely from the tusks of a mûmak. Aragorn made a mental assessment that if Haradrim were ever to visit Minas Tirith, he would never allow them to come within a stone's throw of the place. They might have another war upon seeing the beasts they loved treated so carelessly.

Another round of ale was set in front of them, the whole tavern flooded with soldiers of Gondor who were off duty and could find no better place where they would rather be. Aragorn, cordially invited because he happened to be in the right location at the right moment, sat across from Mennev as the man laughed at another joke from a fellow soldier. The evening had been good for him, spending time with men who were as earthen as he used to be, though he had never spent much time with others when he had taken the name Strider, or Thorongil, for that matter. But it was good to remind oneself from time to time that you were only a _man_ , not a King…and this happy meeting with the guard of his citadel was more than welcome. And a good drink was a help after having so many days with far too much weighing on his mind.

He had, however, over the last half-hour, become a bit more withdrawn. Something, somewhere, was beginning to worry him. It had been gnawing away at him like an old wound that pained for no reason; a strange likeness, but that was how it felt to him. He could not quite place the oddness, the strange thought that he ought to be elsewhere…or that he was _needed_ elsewhere. But he felt nothing from Arwen, and had heard no news, and there were no idiots saying foul things to him tonight. But still…it _was_ late enough.

Lifas shoved Hildanir in the shoulder, unusually powerful due to the amount of ale he had consumed. "So where's the pretty lass you been seein'? Haven't seen her much in the last few days."

Hildanir shook his head. "No, we are…not seeing one another anymore."

Aragorn's head came up as he heard the conversation coming from behind him. He was all surprise to hear that Hildanir was not seeing the apothecary's daughter; he had been taken by her for quite some time.

"What? You're over the moon for that girl!"

"I was," Hildanir replied, and though his voice was loud enough to be heard, it was clear he was not pleased. Lifas clearly sighed and hit him on the shoulder; Aragorn could tell the sounds.

"I'm sorry to hear that, lad. What happened?"

"It was a…differing of opinions," he said, avoiding a complete answer. Aragorn had half-a-moment to wonder about what had happened before his thoughts were interrupted by a holler.

"Goin' for another round, my Lord?" asked Mennev, nodding toward the half-pint sitting before Aragorn, and the man held up a hand.

"I think I have finished for the evening, Mennev. It is time for me to be heading home."

"Must get home to the missus!" he said with a nod. "Aye, we'll see you in the morning!"

Aragorn smiled at him, bowed his head. "It was good to be here tonight. Enjoy the rest of it." He stood and took his leave of the considerable group of men within the tavern; by the time he made his way outside, it was over half-an-hour. The shadow that had been seemingly following him for the time before he had left was hanging over him quite steadily now. He still could not point to anything specific, but he knew his heart well enough. He needed to be home, and he could smell a storm in the air.

"My Lord," he heard behind him, and he turned, standing in the lamplight in the street before _The Oliphant's Tusk._ The weight of what was pressing on him caused him to not return, but Hildanir approached him.

"Forgive me, Hildanir," he said, smiling patiently. "I forgot you in my farewells."

Hildanir shook his head. "Thank you, Elessar," he said, "but that was not why I followed you out." He stopped next to him and bowed his head. "Is it possible that I might walk with you on your return home?"

Aragorn inclined his head to the street before them, and the two began walking. "I did not realize you had wanted to leave as well; I could have included you easily as I tried to excuse myself."

"It is no problem. Though you should not be roaming the streets on your own." He shifted uncomfortably, and that awkwardness alone made Aragorn pay attention.

"Is there something on your mind, Hildanir?" he asked.

The soldier sighed. "I…have something I wish to confess to you."

Aragorn looked over at him as they walked. "Confess?" he quoted. "What happened?"

"You remember Trena, the woman you had encouraged me to see?"

"Yes," he acknowledged. "I overheard you telling Lifas that it did not end as well as I had hoped. I regret that I was eavesdropping…and I am sorry that it fell apart."

"I am not sorry," Hildanir said, his jaw set, and Aragorn was surprised to see him so clearly angry. "We argued quite ferociously, and then I went out."

"Do you know each other well enough to argue?" Aragorn asked seriously, shocked. "She must have wronged you terribly for—"

"It was not me she wronged," he said, and for the first time, raised his head to look into Aragorn's eyes. "It was my Lady, the Queen."

Aragorn's stride slowed a little bit. "Her words offended you?"

"It was not only me," he stated, "though I was angry, and I would have told her off simply for saying the words to me. But…it was before the _Queen_ , _to_ her, that she said them. She said several things, but the one that is trapped in my brain was that she was…well…"

Aragorn had heard them all before. He knew what Hildanir was going to say before he said the words. "Trena said she was barren."

"Yes, and that she could _help_ her!" he scoffed, affronted. "Who…who _says_ such things? To the Queen of the Citadel? How…how _dare_ she slander her, but how dare she do it before her, on a public street… _despicable._ "

Aragorn frowned. _So Arwen has been hearing the people's words as well. I should have known; sometimes, Aragorn…for so discerning an individual…you can be very thick._ "Perhaps she did not think that offering help would offend," he said softly. "She is an apothecary's dau—"

"I do not care if she were the Queen of Rohan!" Hildanir growled, his hands balling into fists. "There is no excuse for utter ignorance, either. Even were she _dumb_ she could not have thought that her words would not be offensive! And because I was there, I feel responsible for them, for her words. Never will I court another woman without first judging her character."

"Hildanir," Aragorn began softly, "why would you have ever thought—"

"Yes," he agreed, "I never would have. Someone who appears so innocent and sweet should not be able to speak such things, even without knowledge. I do not have a desire to spend time with such an empty-headed woman." He sighed loudly, looking up at the heavy clouds. A rumbling of thunder was heard over the Pelennor. "My Lord," he said, turning his head to look at Aragorn again, "you know that I would defend my Lady's honor with my last breath."

Aragorn gave him a smile and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "You are a good man, Hildanir. One of the most loyal friends a man could ask for; thank you for defending her. I am sorry that your courtship, albeit brief, did not end well."

"I am not," he said again, and there was fire in his eyes as they made their way past the stables on the sixth level. "To me, anyone who slanders the Lady should be in the stocks for at least a week, perhaps more. And anyone who wishes her ill should be put to death…publically," he finished darkly. "Thank Ilúvatar that _I_ am not the King and someone sensible has the duty."

"Sometimes, Hildanir," he said with great regret, "the most difficult things in the world are to be calm and reign in your anger. Sometimes, I imagine coming to fisticuffs on many things, yet I always draw back at the moment before; I cannot allow myself to be so…disorderly."

Hildanir nodded. "That is why _you_ are the King, my Lord." There were a few moments of silence before they reached the tunnel to the highest level. Here, they both paused, Aragorn to move onward, Hildanir back. "Will you forgive me, Elessar, for what happened?"

"Forgive you?" he asked. "No, I would thank you, Hildanir. For your courage, and for your kindness. You are truly steadfast in your faithfulness. May I always be lucky enough to have your friendship." He extended his hand and clasped the man's arm.

Hildanir bowed his head. "I believe in you, sire; you are my King, and it is I who am lucky enough to call _you_ , friend. Have a good evening."

"Good evening, Hildanir," replied Aragorn as the two parted ways. His gait increased.

* * *

The moment Aragorn stepped into the House, he felt a great heaviness in the air that weighed down his heart. It was so dark and quiet when he closed the door that he thought it was possible Arwen might not even be home. He remembered for the first time in heaven only knew how long to take his boots off in the sitting room corner where Arwen had been asking him to. He noticed that the only dim light was coming in through the windows on the back porch; even that was barely enough to see when it was about to storm. Arwen had lit no candle tonight, and that caught his attention. Enguina and Erumar must have truly exhausted her today beyond anything he had ever seen…or…

Worry crept in, and then his danger sense began running amok. He scanned the sitting room with keen eyes, but there was nothing except the rocking horse in the corner. As there was nothing here, it must be elsewhere, and he padded quickly into their bedroom. He found nothing out of the ordinary; his wife lay still on their bed as thunder rolled outside. He could hear the beginning pings of rain upon their roof. The only thing odd here was that Arwen was lying on her stomach—a completely unusual position for her. Asleep on her side, yes, but not her face half-buried in the pillow like that. He let her be, wondering if she was truly exhausted. He wandered about in the dark to collect his clothes and prepare for sleep.

What Aragorn did not know at that moment was that Arwen was wide awake. Her eyes stared emptily at the wall before her, glazed with tears, her face red and wet. She had been lying there for hours; she did not know the time and could not have cared. She would never have heard the bells ringing the hour, and it was painfully obvious that she could focus on nothing but the agony of the day. She had exhausted herself with tears and had fallen into a restless sleep. After only being asleep for a few moments, the most horrible nightmare had assaulted her mind and she had woken only a short while ago, breaking down once again. Perhaps, if she could pretend well enough, he would not know she was awake. Perhaps she could lie here and he would never know. It was almost no time at all before the sheet lifted; it was a cooler night than the last few nights, so a sheet had been welcome. He was so soundless in the dark that he almost startled her, but that would have given her away so she forced herself to stillness.

There was nothing for Aragorn like climbing into bed beside her; there never had been, and there never would be. After so many years alone, watching his back, sleeping with one eye open, to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight was a privilege that he would never stop thanking Ilúvatar for. It was contentment, peace, a sanctuary in his heart to lie beside her and rest. On nights, like this one, when he would be late, he loved sliding over to her in the middle of their bed, slipping his arms around her and drawing her close to his chest. He slid his arm gently over her waist and pressed himself into her back, breathing in the scent of her hair.

It took everything within her to not break down again at the moment he touched her. She felt his breath on the back of her neck where her hair had fallen aside, and she nearly trembled. He felt her body tense and he pulled more decidedly against her back, spooning around her. "Beloved," he whispered, "are you awake?"

It must have been the tone of his voice, or the whispered words against the back of her neck, or the way he held her so tightly. She wanted to melt against him, to cry out in agony, to break into a rage against the heavens, to weep into his chest and beg for mercy—a hundred, thousand things in that single moment—and yet, all she did was say three words.

" _It is late_." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was thick and hoarse. She had been crying for _hours_ ; she had not spoken or taken drink in all of that time and so her voice cracked in its lack of use. He heard her swallow— _hard_ , and he knew something was very wrong.

He leaned upon his right elbow and tried to see down into her face, but it was mostly covered by her dark hair and there was no moonlight now. The rain picked up; the thunder rolled overhead. He leaned further, pressing his chest harder into her back so he could see her face, but then it was obscured by her dark hair. Lifting the hand that held her, he brushed the hair back, dragging his fingertips across wet skin.

"Arwen," he whispered, and he watched as her eyes closed, but not before he caught sight of the endless pain within them. "Beloved, what—" Her breath caught and it stilled his lips; he did not hear it so much as feel it against his chest. He wrapped his arm back around her and attempted to take her shoulder to turn her; she held fast.

" _Please…_ " she begged, and as she gasped, tears flooding her eyes, the tight control she had over what he had been feeling from her through their bond _slipped_. She felt him jolt against her in the burst of suffering he received, and his arm instinctively tightened on her. Desperate to stop it, she scrambled to rein it back in, physically curling on the bed as she tried to do it in her mind.

 _How! How_ had he gone all day without feeling this from her? He was taken aback by the incredible pain she was feeling, so shocked he could hardly send peace back; all he could do was wordlessly caress her with his mind. She choked on tears.

"Arwen, speak to me," he whispered to her, his hand tight on her waist now as he reacted to her pain. "Tell me what is wrong! _What has happened?_ " He was terrified! Was it Enguina? Erumar? Had she had a vision? Had she had a terrible nightmare?

" _Estel…_ " she whimpered, her eyes tightly closed, attempting to hold him at bay. She knew it would not last as the lump at the base of her throat threatened to explode. But _how_ could she tell him? How could she tell him about her fears, her jealousy, her insane fury at the child that Enguina was carrying? He would think her ridiculous! Or worse, he would think her pitiable, or be ashamed of her, and that would be the end of her heart.

Yet…his body was so warm against hers, and she felt him reach for her both physically and mentally. He wanted so desperately to comfort her, and she wanted so desperately to pull away and retreat into the shattering shell she had frantically built for the last few hours to protect herself. Tears spilled over and down her nose, running into the pillow as she trembled with the force of her sadness. She wondered how much more she could cry.

 _Arwen, let me in…please, Ilúvatar, let me in…_

She felt the words resonate within her mind, pleading with her to let him help, to let him heal her heart from whatever had broken it today. He took her shoulder in his hand and turned her slowly onto her back; she did not dare fight him this time. She tried to draw her hands up to cover her face, to prevent him from seeing what a mess she was, but that did not work either. He could not hold her this way, get his arms around her, so he sat them both up and brought her into his chest, wrapping her body tightly into his arms. The warmth he offered was too much, his comfort like the blanket she had been wishing for since that afternoon, desperate to have all day as she had remained in the House alone, never realizing she had not eaten or that she had not seen Enguina or Erumar for dinner. She had never known anything so comforting, and even though it did not stop her weeping, it provided enough warmth for her to tuck her hands against his chest and then bury her face into his tunic and neck as though she never wanted to be seen again. He wrapped a hand around the two of her freezing ones, holding them against him as she drew one shuddering breath and then another.

She was a _wreck_ , and she knew it. When she let go and let him in, there was a torrent of pain, agony, sorrow that swept over him. It could only be one thing; he knew that only too well. Oh, if he could take this away from her and keep it so she would never feel it again, he would. He _would_ in a heartbeat. He whispered her name again and she shook her head forcefully against him, the edges of her fingers gripping his tunic beneath his hands.

" _Please do not ask me!_ " she stuttered out, her voice breaking with her tears as she clutched at him, crying into his chest. " _Can you just hold me?"_ She begged him, the words out of her mouth before she even knew what she had been going to say. She wept into him.

The force of her words struck him; he ached to know exactly what had happened. He knew nothing of the situation, except that she was full of sorrow. Her grief washed over him, and he heard her in his heart, crying for him. He wrapped himself around her like a shield and prayed for her, prayed that his love might reach her through the great darkness that surrounded her. He pressed his hand to the side of her head and held her against his chest, her ear close to his heart.

 _Estel! Estel…please! Help me!_

 _I am here, beloved…I am here._


	14. Chapter 14

"Now, now, I know you're leavin', but you've gotta wait until Húndin loads the last few boxes!"

Legolas and Gimli stood on the lowest walkway near the gate of Helm's Deep, the elf shaking his head as the dwarves _continued_ to load things into the cart he had been leaving with over an hour ago. Brethil was tied to one of the torch stands on the wall, half-asleep, and Legolas was staring at the cart the two large rams would be pulling. They were hitched up already; both were quite shaggy, but seemed to be content in this summer heat. One was spotted, with large areas of grey and white while the other was solid brown with a very dark face. Both were quite friendly, which Legolas did not expect as he had never had much dealing with goats. Skitka and Bitka were their names. He almost wished he could keep them; Enguina would adore them. However, there was no necessity for such animals where they lived, and for the love of heaven…he was not about to ask Gimli to keep something else the dwarf was willingly sending with him. No, no, and _no._

He reached over and rubbed Radost's ears; she was already tied to the side of the cart as well and seemed quite relaxed even though there were many dwarves about her hollering and packing. This was a good trait in a pony for his child, he thought. She was a little sorrel but with a flaxen mane, and she had little tufts on her fetlocks. And Gimli was right that she could be full of herself.

"Gimli," Legolas said, "you are overburdening the animals! This is enough, my friend."

"Overburdening?" Gimli laughed. "Elf, you've no idea what these animals can carry! They're quite strong. Just one more thing; one more thing and then we'll cover it."

He sighed, and then crossed his arms. "You have made it impossible for me to travel quickly, you know. Now it shall take me over two weeks to get home instead of flying over the ground."

Gimli glanced up at him with a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "In a hurry to get back to the missus, eh? Can't imagine why."

Legolas had not told him the waking dream he had of Enguina last night, and he knew very well that he had not been the one having the dream to start. He had no idea if she knew what she had been doing, communicating her thoughts like that in her sleep, but it had been powerful…and _passionate_. He wanted to be home yesterday, and he was still here. To think of the ways he would lay her down when he returned was too much for him in broad daylight and much too personal to be thinking of when standing here in front of so many. But Enguina's dream had kept him awake long into the night, and he would repay that when he returned. He would keep her awake all night with no dream…just himself and their bed, and he would please her in ways she could not _imagine_ —

"Hey, laddie! You hearing me?"

Legolas blinked his smoldering eyes. He had been staring at the top of Radost's head for the last several moments without really seeing it. "Forgive me, Gimli. I was—"

"Yeah, yeah!" he said, waving him off. "I know what you're doing, and you can't even be embarrassed about it!"

Legolas smiled. "I _am_ a happily wedded man, and _you_ brought on the subject."

"Too right, you are," he said gruffly as the dwarves began covering the cart. "Well, lad, you'd better give my thoughts and well-wishes to Enguina, or next time I see her, I'm going to hit you so hard your head'll spin. Everyone here wishes you nothing but happiness."

Legolas set his hand on Gimli's shoulder. "It was a joy to spend time here again with you, my friend, and your kin. Thank you for your generosity and your blessings; Enguina and I could not possibly thank you enough. But it is time to return home to my wife and child. I will miss you when we are apart." Yes, he would. Separated by many miles, he knew that once the child was born it would be difficult for them to come here for many years.

"Aye, lad. I'll miss you, too." They clasped arms and then hugged briefly. The dwarves and Rohirrim all around him began to wish him their goodbyes, and he spoke with them and bid them farewell as he woke the dozing Brethil and untied him.

And then he was mounted and on his way, leading a cart laden down with gifts for the Elves of Ithilien. He could never have asked for a greater friend. The dwarf would be on his heart for many days.

* * *

He had intended to arrive at the council meeting early this morning, but his heart was not in it. Aragorn settled himself beside the white tree, leaning back against its strong trunk. Arwen's heart weighed so heavily upon him this morning that he struggled to think about anything else. There had not been much rest in their home last night; perhaps in the very early hours before sunrise she had truly slept. The other four times were exhausted, restless, nightmarish sleep. It was more or less like this: she would exhaust herself in tears, rest against his chest, and then wake not half-an-hour later in distress. It had been awful, and finally, he had taken matters into his own hands and made her sleep.

He closed his eyes, seeking solitude. He was fatigued this morning, but it was not only that he had no rest. He was wearied because even though she had looked to him for comfort all last night, she would not speak of her pain. He _knew_ it had to be something with the child; he was not a dolt. But it was possibly even more than that. He had hated to leave her this morning, but he had to. The white tree's blossoms came down around him in the cooler breeze that had been left behind by the past evening's storm. He bent forward and rested his head in his hands.

 _Ilúvatar, please, give her the strength for this day, to face whatever she is facing. Be at her side when I cannot be. Help her to seek you and ask you for strength; remind her that you are there and help her to rely on you. Get me through this day, Father…so that I might be home with her that much more quickly._

Nardur was intrigued by the King as he sat near the White Tree, head in his hands, shoulders slumped in a manner to indicate the exhaustion he felt. He had to wonder what had gone on last night, though he knew very well from Aragorn's outburst to Noldore a day or so ago that the stress of this situation was wearing on him. The King and Queen were being assaulted from all sides, and this was not only his doing. He could not control the words of the people that were spoken to them in passing, and he did not control Enguina's being with child, though that had seemed to only help the situation, not hinder it.

He heard footsteps at the end of the row and turned to see Ethring coming down to him. He stepped back from the perfect spying spot to look at the man. "Good morning, Ethring. You seem—"

"Tired?" he said, rubbing his eyes. "I am. I took it upon myself to see what was up at the King's House last night."

Nardur raised his eyebrows. "I commend you, and I am all ears."

"Last night the Queen was indisposed. Something happened within the City; I am not sure, but I followed her back from the guesthouse and she was quite unwell. Last night, they were awake together and she spent most of the night in tears."

He nodded. "Perhaps the fact that Lady Enguina is with child _is_ weighing on her."

"I would agree. I also have more information for you. I spoke with the—"

"Not here," he said under his breath. "There could be ears and that is _not_ something I want overheard. You can tell me this: is everything in place?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep up your end, watch carefully, and I will do my part as well. I hope we will have results, but…I am beginning the makings of another plan."

"Oh?"

"It would ensure Gondor's survival, but…it may land us both in the dungeon," he admitted. "One must be steadfast and sure on the path if we are to succeed, and not worry about the consequences." He raised an eyebrow as Ethring nodded, thinking. "Yes, think on it, Ethring. It may require a very particular service of you. One that you will not like, but…I have no one else who understands the situation as we do."

"I will give it serious thought. In the meantime, I will continue on my end as you have asked."

"Thank you," Nardur said. "Your service to Gondor will not go unrewarded."

* * *

It was quiet in the King's House as Arwen sat in the chair, her back to the window where the sun was beating upon her. She was glad of it; her hands were like ice, almost as though she could get no warmth into her body, her heart. Aragorn had left so early and with so little sleep…no, if she were honest with no sleep, and she felt terribly guilty.

She had said not one word to him after she had begged him to hold her and he had not asked her to speak of it again. His eyes were worried, his hands were gentle, and his lips soft on her forehead as he left her seated on the bed this morning, but he had never asked why she had been upset. Instead, he had asked her if she was well-enough to remain on her own. Though he could not have stayed even if he had desired to, he had clearly been prepared to leave and return with Enguina. She had convinced him, though she had not been telling the truth, that she would be all right. He knew her too well; she _wanted_ to be alone, to take some time to regain some self-control. So he had left her, but he had been right…she was not well-enough to be alone. She was suffering under the thin cover of skin that protected her and held her together. Barely breathing, she sat on the chair placing stitch after stitch into the little dress she had begun under the possibility that Enguina might have a girl. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the warm yellow fabric and she suddenly crumbled it roughly between her hands.

 _Why?_ Why should she make this? Why should she make _any_ of it? Why should she care to dress Enguina's child at all when she was furious at it? Furious at _her_! Furious at Ilúvatar for giving Enguina that gift of life and depriving _her_ of it! She was so angry and jealous! She choked back the tears again and lowered her face to her hand. _Oh, Ilúvatar, forgive me…where would I be without you? Help me, help me to overcome this jealousy; please…give me some peace so I can breathe and not hurt…so I do not struggle along this path all day. Liberate me, Father!_

Why could she not be happy as she had been, when she had first seen Enguina and she had rejoiced over her? But no, even then she had felt the stirrings of jealousy and not known it for what it was. Now that she recognized it, due to Gwae voicing that she would have been, she finally had understood what she was feeling. Now, she needed to figure out what she was going to do with those feelings…how she was going to push them away so that she could somehow overcome and still be the friend Enguina deserved. She _loved_ Enguina, and she _was_ happy for her two oldest friends…it was only that her pain consumed her every other thought. Stretching the fabric back out and shoving aside her feelings to a dull roar, she continued working on this lovely little dress that she felt would look perfect on a beautiful Elven child with fair hair and soft eyes, like Legolas and Enguina. The only difference was that in her heart she knew that there was a drawer full of unused baby clothes in the other room, waiting for a child from the womb of the woman whose hands had made them. How she could sit here and think about that drawer with such perfect clarity, knowing that only moments ago she had been wanting to cry again, she had no idea. The only thing that kept her sane at the moment was that she had not set foot out of this House; she did not need to see the eyes full of pity.

The front door clicked and opened, and she heard the voices of her friends. It had been Enguina's presence yesterday that she had not been able to stand. Perhaps it was the change of place, and she was surprised, but she almost felt relief that they were here. If they knew what she had felt yesterday, they would not wish to be here…so they must not have any idea. That was very good.

"In here, dear ones," she said softly, and Enguina bounded into the room, apple from the table in hand, with Erumar following closely behind. Enguina came directly to her and hugged her tightly about the neck. Erumar showed a bit more restraint, but Arwen assumed that came from her trying to read her. Enguina was not so focused on understanding, just trying to be sure she was all right.

"You have no idea what it took last night for Erumar to restrain me so I did not come running over here," she said in her ear. "She had to confine me to the house, when I was so worried about you."

Erumar sat down on the divan, tucking one leg beneath her. "You still seem pale to me," she stated. "You do not have much color for someone who should be rested."

Arwen gave her a little smile when Enguina pulled away. "I am glad that you refrained," she replied. "I was not feeling well at all and it would not have been any good for you to be here. I needed to…rest." The last word came out after the briefest of hesitations, and Erumar tilted her head.

"But you are well now? Even if you are pale?" asked Enguina, touching Arwen's face.

"I am as well as I can be," she replied, almost smiling humorlessly. Enguina did not question it, but Erumar was still studying her, troubled.

"It is strange to me that you can become ill for seemingly no reason."

Arwen _did_ smile then. "Perhaps it was something I ate."

"Do you know what—" Erumar began, but Enguina gasped when she looked down and saw what was between her hands.

"Oh! Is that what I think it is?" she asked, grinning.

The smile was infectious of course. "Yes, it is, though I did not want you to see it until it was completed. A little late for secrets now though, I suppose."

"It is beautiful!"

"It is barely begun!" laughed Arwen. "Erumar, please temper her for me."

"No, she is right," she replied, shaking her head. "If I had known you were such a seamstress myself I would have had you make clothes as well."

"For your children? Could you see Aelin in a dress like this?"

"Not for them, for _me_." Enguina giggled, and tossed herself down beside Erumar on the divan, taking another bite of her apple. Erumar looked over at Arwen then, and the elf knew immediately she was going to return to the subject of yesterday. "Arwen, will you please tell us next time you are not feeling well? We _did_ feel quite terrible letting you go to the House on your own. I know what it is like to desire to be alone, but—"

"And you are quite adept at keeping secrets from others," Enguina pointed out.

"I was not feeling myself," Arwen did reply honestly. "And I _did_ wish to be alone." She looked away from their eyes. She felt Enguina's hands suddenly over hers as the elf knelt in front of her.

"There were many times— _many times_ —that I wished to be alone," she told her softly, and Arwen felt the guilt flash through her, "and yet you never let me. Shall I let you?"

"Sometimes," she said softly, "I feel as though perhaps I should have done as you wished. At times, I feel guilty that I never did. Solitude can help—"

"For the right reason," Erumar said, "as everyone in this room knows. Solitude for the heart does not help at all; solitude for prayer is another story."

"And it was better that way, that you never left me alone," Enguina insisted. "Who knows what I might have done? All those years, you tried to save me from my sufferings, you hid the greatest secret of your life from me all because you cared too much to hurt my feelings." She sighed. "No one could ask for a greater friend than you."

Arwen felt her eyes fill. Oh…how she wished she felt that way now, as a good friend! She looked away from Enguina's face, and the older elf squeezed her hands.

"Can I not be honest?"

After yesterday, Arwen did not know how to reply, but she attempted a response. "You can, but sometimes I do not feel like the friend you think I am," she replied, her voice quiet. "And you embarrass me."

Enguina laughed. "Serves you right for all the times you did it to me! It is because you are too humble, and so easily embarrassed! Think of Gwae yesterday!" Enguina glanced at Erumar as she stood and took her seat again. "Gwae was teasing Arwen about spending quiet time with Aragorn."

Erumar rolled her eyes. "Is that all these people do, Arwen?" she asked, more than a bit annoyed. "Pry into your private lives? Gossip about you?"

Arwen lifted her head. "Erumar, you have no idea."

"But Gwae is harmless!" Enguina cried, surprised to hear Arwen say those words. "She certainly did not mean to offend you in the least way!"

"I know that, Enguina," Arwen told her, giving her a knowing smile. "Gwae is harmless, yes, but others are not as much so. Remember when I told you Aragorn and I try to keep our relationship out of the public eye? That was what I meant. The streets of Minas Tirith…are one gossip session after another."

Enguina sighed. "It is no small wonder you like your solitude."

"On…many days. This morning was one of them."

She made a face. "Well, I suppose my idea is out."

"Oh, _Enguina_!" said Erumar, and then she looked back at Arwen. "I told her that her idea was out since nine o'clock this morning."

"Erumar!" groaned Enguina, and Arwen raised her eyebrows.

"What was this idea? Am I not going to like it?"

"Well, not if you were craving solitude," Enguina sighed.

"Tell me."

"I was thinking that none of us have been for a ride in over two weeks, and Lómë has been loose for so long…so…" she began, but then hesitated.

"So…?" Arwen asked.

Enguina shook her head. "You are going to think I am silly."

"No, I am nearly guaranteed to like the idea if Asfaloth is involved."

"I was thinking that we could ride to the Anduin. But if it is solitude that you are seeking, perhaps—"

"That is perfect, in fact," Arwen said, but inwardly, she hesitated. It did mean riding through the streets of the City in order to get there and possibly seeing some pitying eyes, but…no, this would be good for her. "When were you thinking of going there?"

"Arwen, Enguina," Erumar said thoughtfully, "remember that Enguina is sixth months with child and you are riding on horseback down to the river." She looked very pointedly at Enguina. "Two fairly unsafe activities."

"I am not going _in_ the river," Enguina insisted, and Arwen tilted her head.

"Erumar, we will be perfectly safe," replied Arwen. "I have ridden there many times, and above all that, you will be with us. You can keep an eye on her yourself."

"No, I do not think I will be going. I am not much of a rider," she said a slight frown on her face, "and I think it would be nice if you two spent some time together alone. Honestly," she added when she saw the looks on their faces. "I think you should."

"Erumar," Enguina said, narrowing her eyes, "if we return and there is a single thorn—"

"No, no!" she cried, and she held up her un-bandaged hands that still bore the marks of the punctures. "I promise, I was intending to walk in the gardens, but I was not intending to do anything so stupid again…not if I can help it."

"I thought you would come," Arwen said, looking at her.

Erumar smiled. "I think _I_ would like some solitude. I was hoping to…do some thinking. And perhaps pray for…guidance. I have not prayed in so long…" She looked suddenly guilty, and Arwen thought of her whispered prayer this morning after she had yelled at Ilúvatar.

"I do understand that."

"So do I," sighed Enguina, "though I thought all of us would be going."

"Oh, do not worry about me!" Erumar suddenly laughed. "I have been alone before; I can handle this. Truly."

Arwen smiled slyly. "The only reason Enguina wishes to ride to the Anduin is to remind herself of Legolas."

Enguina giggled. "Stop that! Do _you_ need reminders of Aragorn? No, and aside from that, I do not need any reminders. In fact," she added with a pained expression, "well…we shall speak of it later."

Arwen raised a brow. "All right then."

"I keep thinking of that note we left—"

"'We?'" quoted Erumar.

"Very well! The note _I_ left him," Enguina corrected, rolling her eyes, though there was worry behind them. "He will probably read into it too much and think that I was angry with him and _that_ is why we went to Gondor. _And_ the utter disregard for my safety will make him furious. And then—"

"If I know Legolas, and I know him quite well," Arwen said, "even if he was angry with you, he would not be for long. The moment he arrives and lays eyes on you after this first parting he will forget about everything else." She smiled. "I would not worry about the effect of your note."

Enguina laughed, blushing. "By Elbereth, I hope you are right. I would hate to look into his eyes and see anger there instead of love. You know, another reason why I wish to go to the Anduin is that after living for over three years with grass beneath my feet, I do not know _how_ you live here!"

Arwen smiled, thinking of her haven with Aragorn in the mountains. "Brief respites from the real world must satisfy the craving, whether alone or with Aragorn. There are several places I go; some of them you know, and some of them you do not."

"Oh, more secrets Arwen?" Enguina teased, and Arwen lifted her chin.

"It is good to keep some secrets, Enguina. Or at least to share them only with one person."

"And that person would be _Aragorn_ ," she laughed. Arwen smiled, but said nothing, and her smile nearly disappeared as she thought of all of the secrets she was keeping from him right now.

"Are you two leaving shortly?" Erumar asked. "If you are, then both of you need to get ready. How about we meet back here, Enguina, in a few minutes? That will give Arwen some time to change and prepare herself."

"That sounds excellent," Enguina said as the three of them rose.

"See you in ten minutes," Arwen said, looking forward to the ride. "Asfaloth will be so excited!"

"So will Lómë!" Enguina agreed.

* * *

Aragorn meandered through the garden; it was the lunch hour, and he was a bit confused. He was making his way to the White Tree when he happened upon Erumar standing near some rose bushes, one of the blooming buds in her hand. She lifted her head when she heard him nearby, but she had clearly been lost in thought. Releasing the flower as he returned her smile, she turned towards him as he made his way to her side.

"Good afternoon, Erumar," he said. "I was coming from the King's House, and I was looking for my wife. Do you know where she might be?"

Erumar nodded. "She and Enguina took the horses for a ride on the Pelennor. I think both of them wanted to get away for a little while."

Aragorn nodded, and to her surprise his expression was full of relief. "I was free for a little while and thought we could spend lunch together, but she is busy, and I am glad for it. You did not go with them?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, I am not much of a rider and I…wanted some time to think." She watched as he smiled. "Enguina and I were worried for Arwen last evening," she admitted. "She was not feeling well yesterday, though she seemed…all right this morning. How was she last evening at dinner?"

He looked surprised. "I thought you were all together last night at dinner," he replied. "I was late in coming home."

Erumar frowned. "Was she well when you arrived?"

Aragorn hesitated for only the briefest of moments, but that told Erumar enough. "No, she was upset," he said honestly. "I think she had a dream before I arrived. She was not feeling well yesterday afternoon? I did not know that."

"She left our company after she and Enguina had been to visit an old woman…something with a G…"

"Gwae?" Aragorn offered, and Erumar nodded.

"Yes, that was it. After arriving at the guesthouse, she did not even come inside," she said as she frowned. "Though as she left, it seemed more to me than that she did not feel well. I do not know what the matter was."

"Perhaps she was not well," Aragorn said softly, "I do not know." He appeared troubled to her, and for a moment Erumar began to worry. What _was_ going on here?

"Perhaps…the two of you need to talk," Erumar suggested gently.

He nodded. "Oh, we most definitely need to talk," he said in the same tone. Then he looked at her. "How are your hands? Arwen told me what happened."

She blushed, embarrassed, though she knew he had only asked her because he cared about her well-being. "They are sore," she admitted, glancing down at them. He reached out to take one and look at the palm; he did not stretch out her fingers or pull the skin.

"The Healers could give you more ointment—"

"No," she said, taking her hand away from him, but refusing to look in his face. "This was my doing; I can manage the aftermath."

"You should not blame yourself," he told her firmly, and she nodded, but did not lift her head. Here, she would not be swayed, and he knew that battle was lost. Time to move on. "Would you care to join me for a brief lunch? Arwen is clearly not here, nor is Enguina, so you and I are left to our own devices."

She glanced up at him then and smiled. "I suppose I could do that."

He led her away from the garden, and as they walked, he said, "What were you walking here thinking of? I could see you were lost in thought when I approached you."

She sighed. "I was considering Enguina and Arwen's words of encouragement."

"Yes? What words were those?"

She gave him a sideways look. "Do not tease me, Aragorn. If Arwen mentioned my hands to you, then she surely mentioned the rest."

"No," he disagreed. "She spoke only that you had injured your hands and she and Enguina were worried for you. She said nothing of encouragement."

"Nothing of Thranduil?"

He shook his head. "Though I would be remiss if I did not say that I knew he wished you to visit Lasgalen. Is that what you are speaking of?"

"Yes," she said slowly, "that was their encouragement…that I should go."

"It is beautiful there," he said. "And there would be nothing to remind you of—"

"I know," she said, cutting him off, and then she looked into his face. "Please, do not say his name. I have been thinking it too much in my head recently, and that led to thorns and bushes and…need I say more? I need to separate myself for a moment. My thoughts fly apart, Aragorn. Please."

He bowed his head. "Of course."

"Thank you," she said, sighing softly. "Enguina said that I should go to a place where there were no ties, nothing to lead me to those thoughts and memories. But something tells me that if I go there, that is all I would be thinking of. And then," she hesitated, "there is another matter entirely."

He waited a moment to let her think and then asked, "What is that?"

"When Thranduil invited me to come, the _many_ times that he invited me to come, I do not know…" she hesitated again, embarrassed. "I…do not know _why_."

"You have never been there," he said, "and you and Thranduil seemed to become quick companions. Believe me, Erumar, I have seen Thranduil in his domain, and I can assure you that I have never seen him enjoy someone's company as much as he did yours the time that he spent in Minas Tirith. I can only imagine how much closer you became in Ithilien. You probably know him better than anyone right now aside from his own son." She rolled her eyes, yet he did not look away from her. "You think I tease you, yet I am being perfectly serious. Of course he would invite you to see his home."

"But… _why_? Aragorn, is it to visit Eryn Lasgalen? Or is it to visit _him_ in Eryn Lasgalen?" She blushed and then looked miserable. "Those are two very different things."

Aragorn frowned thoughtfully and then sighed. "Erumar, to a man, they are the same. To come and see Eryn Lasgalen would be to come and see him. To an elf?" He shook his head. "I do not know. To him? That would be a question for Legolas. Perhaps it is all innocence; perhaps you should not worry as you have been; perhaps all he wants is for you to experience his home."

"I am worried…and afraid," she said softly. "I am afraid that I will get to know him and that I…will like him too much, and then I will be a fool. I am afraid that I will like him too much and be unable to love again. I am afraid that he will get to know me and he will not like what he discovers. I am afraid that both of our memories will haunt us forever and we will never outrun them. I am _afraid_."

He reached down and took her hand as they continued to walk. "You need to let these burdens go," he said gently. "Thranduil did not invite you to Lasgalen to fall in love with him, of that much I am certain. If he did invite you for personal reasons, then it is because he enjoys your company and wants you to experience his home with him as a guide. Erumar, what is the worst possible thing that you could possibly imagine happening?"

"The _worst_ thing?"

She could think of a hundred terrible things. She could _hate_ Lasgalen and despise every moment she was there, comparing it to Lórien and finding no joy in it. She could discover that being with Thranduil was something she could not do, as every moment she saw him she would think of her dead husband. She would see _him_ over his shoulder every moment they were together. She would have terrible dreams and try to maim or otherwise wound herself while in his kingdom and he would be the one to find her. He would pity her for her loss instead of understanding it. No…though all of these things were terrible, there could only be one possible _worst_.

"The worst thing," Erumar whispered, looking down at their joined hands, "is that after a time, I would find myself in love with him…and feel so terribly guilty, after belonging to another man, that I could never forgive myself for going there in the first place."

"That would be terrible, indeed," he said gently. "Then what you first must do, before you find yourself falling in love with Thranduil, is reconcile with yourself." She lifted her head and looked at him. "Forgive yourself, your own heart, Erumar. What you are doing is not wrong. Ilúvatar has a purpose for your life, and you must discover what it is."

She closed her eyes. "So…your advice is…?"

" _Go_. Thranduil is a good man. But he is also proud and unyielding; his profoundly virtuous character so hidden beneath a wall of impenetrable, sorrowful grief that it will take someone willing to patiently draw him out to see it. To bring back the man he was, the man few knew whom nearly only Legolas remembers now." He looked pointedly at her. "Erumar, you could be the one person who could discover who Thranduil truly is. Is that something that you would see as an adventure, an enjoyable risk?"

"Aragorn…" she said softly, looking away, uncomfortable.

"And what, do you think, does Thranduil see when he looks at you? A very beautiful, kindred spirit who understands and knows the agony he has felt. A woman protected by her own impenetrable wall of grief but whose kindness and compassionate heart still shine, in contrast to his own. Your grief has softened your heart even further, while he allowed his to become hard as stone."

"If I had lived as many years as he has with this grief, perhaps I would be different," she argued softly. "Though I am not defending his choice, perhaps I would have taught myself that the only way to survive was to be hard…to feel nothing…"

He smiled at her. "But you know that, and you are not going to be that person," he stated. "Thranduil did not make that choice. Erumar, we are all, in some way, broken. You are two broken people who made very different choices in your brokenness.

"I do not seek to upset you, so I will leave this conversation with one final encouragement: do not make the decision to leave for Eryn Lasgalen because you are choosing to escape your past…leave to embrace your future. Whatever your decision, make it for the right reason." He gave her a little smile. "If there is nothing else I have learned all of these years, it is to trust Ilúvatar…he knows what he is doing. Whatever trial, whatever joy, whatever pain," he nodded, "he knows what he is doing, especially when we are full of uncertainty. Trust him."

Erumar swallowed. "Even when it is too hard?"

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Especially when it is too hard," he replied, his voice soft. She nodded, but could not speak. "Come, let us get something to eat."

It took all the way to the King's House before she found her voice to thank him for his words.


	15. Chapter 15

"This was the most wonderful idea! What a splendid day for a ride!"

Arwen could hardly agree more with Enguina's outburst as they rode alongside the Anduin, and Lómë tossed his head in agreement as well. The stallion was under strict orders from Brego to take his time; even Arwen had been able to understand that nip as they had saddled up in the aisle, but Asfaloth had reassured him. Lómë seemed perfectly content to walk, as did Asfaloth, and the two were in tandem, waking beside one another in rhythm. The sun sparkled off the shimmering surface of the Anduin as Arwen watched closely to see where one of the most shallow sections was, hidden by a batch of sycamore trees. She wanted to be sure that if they did decide to go for a swim, they would be seen by no one. Asfaloth knew where she was headed so she barely needed to guide him.

She thought of the ride through the City. For most of it, she had noticed nothing; greetings from the citizens seemed normal, and there was only one moment of irrational jealousy where she had needed to dig her own nails into her thigh to prevent herself from lashing out at Enguina. Otherwise…she felt she had handled the ride down fairly well. Upon arrival at the small grove, Arwen and Enguina dismounted. It was clear to Arwen that even though Enguina was an excellent rider, she was exhausted—the ride had been long and she _was_ six months with child. Enguina leaned her head on Lómë's neck for just a moment too long and found Arwen smiling at her as she rested her hand on Asfaloth's sweaty shoulder.

"Why do you not take Lómë's saddle bag and find a place for us to have lunch?" she suggested. "I will take care of these two while you rest a moment."

"You are not removing all of this tack yourself," Enguina said firmly. "I am perfectly capable of helping you do this—"

"And you are also perfectly capable of finding a place to rest," Arwen interrupted, slipping Lómë's reins from her hand. "I insist."

"I refuse."

She narrowed her eyes. "Truly?"

Enguina held out her hand. "Reins, please."

"Do not test me," Arwen said. "It was a long ride, and you are tired. Find a spot to lie down or I will find a place for you."

Enguina rolled her eyes. "What a threat." She took her saddle bag and turned away from the two horses. As she did so, Arwen rolled _her_ eyes.

"Why could you not just admit you were tired? Why be so argumentative and stubborn?"

"I cannot allow everyone to just tell me what to do," Enguina said, lowering herself beneath the tree, unlacing and yanking off her riding boots, and stretching out easily in the grass. Her legs and back _did_ ache today; it might be a long ride home. "If I will not let it work for Legolas, why would I let you do it?"

"He is your husband; you must be more stubborn on principle."

Enguina laughed. "Oh, Arwen, I cannot even begin to say how wonderful it is to be the wife of Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen."

Arwen tugged the cinch strap of Lómë's saddle as Asfaloth patiently waited his turn. She had to smile to herself. "Tell me. I know you have been dying to since the moment you arrived, and I know you have not wished to share too closely with Erumar about as she does not approve and you do not wish her to reminisce."

"By Elbereth, no," Enguina muttered, "I do not wish any more memories upon her; she has too many of her own. And I have said a few things about being married to Legolas…but not as many as I would like."

"Go on then."

She closed her eyes, curling her hands behind her head. "There are moments when Legolas knows me better than I know myself. There are times when I think he reads my mind. He knows what I enjoy, and if he does not know he yearns to…discover and understand." She said the words almost in awe. "He is so _kind_ …and funny…and romantic. I know it is difficult to imagine him being romantic when Erumar and Thranduil and Gimli have been about, but he somehow found ways.

"Last spring, on our anniversary, we cut across our little glade out in the moonlight, crossed over the shallow creek near our home and walked deeper into the woods. He had found another little glen nearby that we could walk to that was down the creek; there was a little set of falls that ran into a nearby meadow, and on the border of that meadow he composed me a song of love. And then he made love to me in that meadow," she sighed longingly, remembering. "I remember the brook tumbling over rocks and the moonlight shimmering along the water, the song of crickets and birds in the night air, and the night was perfectly warm…and _he_ was warm…"

"That sounds so wonderful." Enguina heard a _thump_ , but she did not look up; she knew Arwen was removing saddles.

"Sometimes," she murmured, "the way he touches me…I cannot believe that this man loves _me._ He loves _me_ in this way…so physically, yet so…emotionally. When you told me that I was completely unprepared for being loved this way, for understanding what it meant to be loved physically by the one I truly gave myself to…I had no idea how right you would be. I knew that Legolas and I loved each other before we left Minas Tirith for our celebration in Dol Amroth…but I did not think that love would grow as it has. This is still sometimes beyond my comprehension."

Arwen could still hear the awe in her voice as she removed Asfaloth's bridle. She rubbed his neck and bumped his shoulder. "Go on, you two. Enjoy yourselves." The two of them took off at a lope and began weaving in between the trees. Arwen turned slightly and saw Enguina propped up on her elbows, watching them.

"Sometimes, I think there is nothing more beautiful than a horse running simply for the joy of it," Enguina said, and then she raised an eyebrow at Arwen as she came towards her. "And then I remember how many times I have seen Legolas undressed in the past three years."

Arwen laughed, sitting down in the grass beside her as Enguina laid back down, folding her arms beneath her head again. "You amuse me so, Enguina," she told her. "What you are saying is that Legolas is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?"

"Definitely," she laughed. "Legolas standing near that creek in the morning, looking off into the sunrise? _And_ completely naked? Oh…no, nothing more beautiful than him."

"He would say the same about you, I am sure." Enguina sighed and winced as she rolled over onto her side. Arwen looked down at her. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, dearest," she said, laying a hand on her stomach. "I think it has finally become uncomfortable to lie on my back, though that is probably due to riding and less to the child."

Arwen smiled. "This is better for you anyway."

She was quiet for a moment as she closed her eyes and so was Arwen. The younger elf gazed at the Anduin and enjoyed the rippling water, the glow and warmth of the sun. Yes, this was the peace she needed today. _Thank you, Ilúvatar. What a beautiful reminder of your creation._

"I still cannot believe how much I have changed," Enguina said softly. "When I remember the moments when I first came to Minas Tirith, and how afraid I was to even be alone with him…how angry I was that you tried to put us together, even the tiniest bit. I cannot believe how much I have come to love and adore him, how much I have come to love sharing myself with him, and not only physically but emotionally as well…and how much I have come to know him. I have never known anyone but you in such a way, so closely. We are the closest of friends, yet also lovers."

Arwen smiled. "It _is_ amazing at times," she agreed, "to share your life this way with someone."

"To have no more secrets," she whispered. Arwen's stomach took an uncomfortable dive. "Oh, I thank Ilúvatar for that. I used to be so afraid…now I know that no matter what, Legolas will love and adore me. He _knows_ me; everything there is to know about me, he knows. And I love that." Arwen did not reply, but she ran her hand along the thick grass beneath her hand. Enguina filled in the silent gap, her eyes still closed. "Arwen, do you ever dream about Aragorn?"

She glanced sideways at her. "Yes…why do you ask?"

A blush came over Enguina's features, even though she had no idea that Arwen was looking at her. "Are they… _vivid_ dreams?"

"I…I am not sure what you mean by 'vivid.' Most often they are real, not my imagination running wild, if that is what you mean."

"No, I do not mean vibrant or colorful," Enguina said softly. "I mean…intense…lurid…"

Arwen smiled to herself. "Clearly not as many as you. You asked me this the night you arrived, remember?"

"Do _not_ tease me," she said miserably. "I cannot get them off my mind."

"Why can I not tease you?" Arwen asked, though not too meanly. "You seemed content enough to tease me about the marks Aragorn left on my throat in front of an old woman."

Enguina's mouth opened and she looked at Arwen indignantly. "I said nothing of the _kind_! I was simply laughing with her about how handsome Aragorn was!"

"And making comments," she pointed out. "But to answer your question, from time to time I _do_ have dreams about Aragorn especially during times when we have not spent much time together alone, though likely…they are not as suggestive as yours."

Enguina sighed with longing. "These are…the last one…last evening…oh it was…" she actually shivered, and Arwen's eyebrows rose. "Arwen, I could hardly calm down. I could barely _think_. I actually thought I felt his hands, his _mouth_ on my skin." She covered her face with one hand. "I had to bathe in cold water in the middle of the night. I had joked about that before with Erumar before we left Ithilien. I never thought I would actually be doing it. I wish I could—I wish he were here, but he is not. I wish I could make them _stop_. They are driving me _mad_."

Arwen reached over and laid a hand on her head. "One morning I had a dream about Aragorn like that and I fought with myself for an hour, trying to prevent myself from going to him. It did not work, and I went to him in the tower of Ecthelion, disrupted the council meeting and he and I made love in one of the rooms above." She gave a weak laugh. "There was not enough time and it was awkward, and I wished we had made more of it and taken more time to love each other properly…"

"Awkward?"

"Against the wall," she said softly, guiltily. "There was really nowhere for him to lie me down. It was hard for me, as well, which made that worse. And all that trying to be quiet, and go undiscovered, and being uncomfortable in a difficult position that took so much out of both of us…" she murmured, shaking her head. "We decided afterwards that there were better places, and better times, and that if something did happen like that again that we were going to make better choices and plan better."

"You mean like the stable when the two of you came home to Minas Tirith?" Enguina laughed.

Arwen shook her head. "That was not a dream. That was one moment where we were carried away by our desire for one another. _We_ were speaking of dreams. I was simply…urging you to remember that even if Legolas were near, do not get so carried away that you cannot enjoy one another because of it. Though, if he were here, your dreams may not have been quite so tempting."

Enguina winced. "If Legolas were here, and I had the dream I had last night, I would have been unable to make any other choice. I would have thrown myself at his feet and begged him to make love to me." She blushed. "Perhaps that would have been wrong, but I was so full of desire for him."

Arwen thought of her dream of the dark-haired woman that had driven her to show Aragorn that he was hers. A completely different situation. "No, that would not be wrong. Desire for him is good, Enguina. You are his wife, why should you not desire him? But I understand why you would not want to have those dreams now when nothing can come of them."

Enguina blushed. "Ugh…I hope I do not actually _say_ anything during them. Living in the same house as Erumar would be quite awkward. She has not said anything, and I am much too embarrassed to ask!"

Arwen laughed softly. "Erumar is too proper to speak of such things; even if she had heard anything, she would be more embarrassed than you were. No, she would never say a word."

"Mmm. Well, in the meantime, I shall simply have to hope that Legolas returns before I have any more dreams." She yawned. "Do you mind if I doze off for a few minutes?"

"It depends. Are you hungrier, or more tired?"

She shook her head. "If they were at war, I would definitely be more tired than hungry."

"Sleep," Arwen said with a smile. "I will wake you in a little while for lunch."

So Enguina fell asleep, leaving Arwen with her thoughts. It did not take long, staring around at this place she knew so well for the past ten years, leaning her back against the sycamore behind her, until she found herself remembering many times that she and Aragorn had spent beneath these trees. She remembered riding with him, weaving in out of the trunks and laughing. She remembered swimming naked with him in the river; he was an excellent swimmer. She remembered running through the trees chasing him; he was faster than she remembered. Lying beside him, her head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. The sun beating down on his tanned skin as he rolled over, touching her face. The way he would study her; how his lips formed the words that she 'was so beautiful.' The thick grass against her skin as she was dragging her fingers through it. His long whistle as he called for Brego and Asfaloth to return from far afield.

But there was that one _particular_ time that they had been here. And the memory of it forced all other memories from her mind until every single one washed away and this was all that was left:

 _The bright afternoon October sun warmed her skin as Aragorn's hand collected her hair and took it across her back, their hearts beating together. That hand released her hair and then brushed all the way down her face, trailing its way down her neck, shoulder and arm, and then back up again. Her elbows were above his shoulders, pressing into the grass, and he was leaving gentle kisses along her collarbone as she raised her chin and tilted her head. Skin touching skin, grass moving in the slight breeze that brushed against her arms, the water trickling over the rocks…every little thing felt so much more sensual. His hand beneath her arm, his thumb rubbing the skin of her breast, his fingers winding behind her neck to turn her head so he could kiss her. Everything was as it should be. She lay against him, spent, sweet exhaustion taking both of them. Another moment._

 _"Beautiful. You are more beautiful than I ever remember." She heard his warm voice, whispered low. She lay with her back in the grass as he stared down at her. Her body glistened with water droplets from the river; they had just been swimming. She had reached up and tucked his wet hair behind his ear but her fingers remained on his face, studying him just as he was studying her. His hand trailed along her soaked skin between her breasts and came to rest on the slight swelling beneath her skin. Three months with child, barely anyone but them could tell, but that was all that mattered. Aragorn slid down and lowered his mouth to the skin near his hands, kissing her body reverently. She trembled. Another moment._

 _"I adore and desire you…you and you alone." His voice now intense with passion, his breath against her throat, his hand wound into her hair as she was wound about him. She paid them no mind at all unless they turned her head so that her lips found his skin. Her focus was on him and him alone, on the way her nails dug into his shoulder blades, the look in his passion-filled eyes as she pressed herself against him, her toes and knees pressing into the grass as he held her with one arm in his lap. Her responses to him did not last in her memory, at least not the physical ones, but she remembered the feeling, and his words to her. Another moment._

 _"I celebrate our love, this life we have made together. I could never ask for more. Ilúvatar has blessed us." His forehead against to hers, their bodies pressed together as they lay on their sides, holding one another in prayer. Her eyes closed as they held one another so close, his arms around her and her hands holding his face, as she listened to the steadiness, the constancy of his heartbeat—the rhythm of her life. After everything they had been through, after all of the chaos, this was the moment of quiet, of strength and rejoicing they shared with one another. She loved him; she loved him so much with every ounce of herself. Oh if the world were to end at this moment, it would have been the happiest one of her life…everything that mattered was right between her hands._

" _Ilúvatar has blessed us with a child. May we ever live to praise him."_

"Arwen? Are you all right? What is the matter?"

Enguina's voice came to her as if through a deep fog, and she struggled to overcome the weight of the memory to reply with an assent that of course she was…but then she realized that it was difficult to breathe with such a lump in her throat, that her face was wet with tears. She wept, and the tears kept coming; she could not stop them, and she turned away when she heard the grass rustle as Enguina sat up. She lifted her hands to block her face, but Enguina latched onto them, even as she tried to pull away.

"Do not turn from me!" Enguina cried, upset by Arwen's attempt to brush her aside. "Arwen, please, what is the matter?" One moment, she had been asleep, and the next— _this_! She looked across the River where Arwen had been looking, but there was nothing that would make her react so strongly. Arwen shook her head, her weeping silent, but it was clear she could not answer. "You _must_ tell me…" she said more softly, and she slid close to her and wrapped her arms around her oldest friend and hugged her stiff form tight. " _Please_ …at least tell me how to help you…"

She caved in to Enguina, lowering her head to her shoulder and staying there for many minutes. How could she explain what she felt? How could she explain what she had remembered, what they had been celebrating, how much she wished for that memory to repeat itself: for Aragorn's hands to be upon her skin right now, his arms around her, his lips pressed to her womb, thanking Ilúvatar for _such_ a blessing. It was such a _curse_ , to have loved and to have lost, so quickly…

" _Memories_ …" she gasped softly, and Enguina tightened her grip on her.

"That must be some memory," she tried to tease her, but the laugh she was going to let out stuck in her throat; her heart told her this was something more. She hesitated, and thought of a conversation they had three years ago as she laid her head on Arwen's. "I remember you telling me something about the Anduin, that nearly every time you came here, you were in tears. Is that…?"

Arwen could barely nod, her hands wound tightly into fists. Oh, she did not wish to _lie_ to Enguina! But how could she tell her that she was in pain because she wanted that moment to be real again? She wanted Aragorn to bless Ilúvatar's name because of _their_ child, not Legolas's! She could _never_ tell her the truth of what she was feeling, her envy, her grief—she was so full of shame.

Eventually, Arwen pulled back, resting her forehead on her knees, but Enguina kept her hands on Arwen's shoulders, holding her near. "Enguina, forgive me," she whispered, feeling ashamed and heart-sick. She reached and tried to wipe the tears from her face.

"Forgive you? For…for what?" she asked, confused. She could hardly describe the emotion she was seeing in Arwen's face—grief? Agony? What was it? There had been times, years ago in Lórien, that Enguina had seen Arwen in pain, but never an all-consuming pain such as this. It was hidden in every pore of her body, rolling from her in waves. "There is so much you do not say," she whispered, lifting Arwen's chin and catching a glimpse of her eyes before she squeezed them shut so tightly that Enguina thought she might explode with whatever emotion she was restraining.

"Can I not be here for you as you have been for me? Please, Arwen…I know this is more than a memory. You are in pain!" Arwen tried to pull away, but Enguina held fast; she was not going to let her go. Arwen drew a gasping breath that she had not known she was holding. "Can I not help you?" she asked, smoothing her hair and wiping fresh tears from her cheek.

" _Pray_ ," she said so softly that Enguina thought she may have imagined it, her voice full of suffering. Enguina leaned forward and one of Arwen's hands suddenly clutched hers, their nails piercing one another's flesh from the force of her grip. " _Please! Pray for me!_ " Her cried words broke Enguina's heart and she, feeling so inadequate, lifted her face to the heavens; she had never prayed like this…for herself, yes, but never like this for someone else.

"Father!" she cried out, so worried for her friend. "I beseech you! Hear the cry of my heart: my friend is in _pain_. There is nothing else that I can do but seek you for compassion and gentleness for her sake. Be with her, draw near to her. I do not know what has brought this suffering, or what prolongs it; I do not know how to make it stop, how to help her. Only you are the great Healer, only you know our hearts. Only you can find a way to help her and settle your love on her, comfort her beneath your wings and be her shield.

"You see me, Father; you have answered my prayers before. You see all that we need, all that we are; Arwen needs you now, she needs your presence, your guidance. Rest your hand of mercy on her; be beside her and take the awful memory of this pain away, whatever it is. Oh, Father, that you would come and sit beside her and comfort her. Give her peace; when she cannot reach it, may you bless her heart with it. You have said, 'you are my servant; fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.' I call you for that strength, that help, right now, Father. Be with her, and help me to be a light for her. Work in me, Ilúvatar, and give us your presence. We feel you, Father…we thank you. Amen."

Enguina leaned forward and pressed her lips against Arwen's bowed head. Her stomach was in knots, she was so worried about her friend. She wanted to help her, but what more could she do? Perhaps she needed to speak to Aragorn—had something happened that she did not know about? What was this all about?

"Hannon le," Arwen whispered, and both she and Arwen wiped the tears from her face. Arwen resigned herself to the uncomfortable silence that she felt between them. She could hardly speak, but she was grateful for Enguina's prayer. Perhaps it could soothe her; perhaps it could bring some peace to her and help her come to terms with her feelings for the child Enguina was carrying that she was lying her hand on right at that moment.

"I wish you could tell me," Enguina said, her voice full of compassion. "I would _kill_ whatever is affecting you so."

In spite of the pain, Arwen laughed at the irony. _Oh, god…Enguina, do not say such things!_ "I do not wish that, Enguina," she said, and finally lifted her head to meet her eyes. "I only wish that I could be…" she shook her head. "I am afraid that this is something that I must master on my own. Forgive me for burdening you."

Enguina reached out and gripped her shoulder, but her fingers were not gentle. "Sometimes I want to… _hit_ you. Very, _very_ hard." Arwen tilted her head to see if she was teasing her, but she was most certainly not. "For nearly fifty years, your prayers sustained me. Just as I have returned to trusting him with my every need, here _you_ are calling that a burden?" She shook her head. "If there is anything I have learned it is that I can master _nothing_ on my own. Ilúvatar is the sustainer, and the Lord of all…you _know_ that. Why would you say that when you have never trusted to your own strength, only his."

 _He…has left my side, Enguina…he has abandoned me in the dark…_ Her heart flooded with self-loathing; she knew she was wrong, and she wanted to fall onto her face and beg for forgiveness from the god of the universe. Instead, she simply asked, closing her eyes again. "He is waiting this time," she said painfully. "I do not know why…I do not know what he is waiting for…"

"His time is not ours," she reminded her gently, and Arwen knew that she was speaking from her own experience with waiting on him for healing. "You waited for nearly thirty years with a burdened heart before Ilúvatar revealed to you that it was Aragorn that could heal it. You must be patient, dearest."

Arwen stood abruptly, but not out of anger. She walked to the edge of the River, crossing her arms. She should have felt warm in the sun, instead all she felt was a chill beneath her cold hands. "You have no idea how many times I have told myself that," she murmured.

Enguina had followed her, and she laid a hand on her shoulder. "Have _you_ been praying, Arwen? Have you asked him to take away this…this pain that you feel? Whatever it is?"

Arwen tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. "Every time I breathe."

"Perhaps…let us ride back if it pains you to be here."

"No, no," Arwen refused, shaking her head. "I do not…I am not ready to go back." There was no way she could face those stares now…no way. "Let us speak of something else. Are you hungry? Shall we eat?"

Enguina made a significant effort to let go the conversation they had been having. "You are...why does everyone say _I_ am impossible? You are far worse." She shook her own head. "But yes, of course I am hungry. I am feeding two, as Erumar said, and I am not supposed to be embarrassed." She rolled her eyes. "Legolas will not even recognize me when he returns."

Arwen laughed at that, and Enguina was glad that she had distracted her if she could not talk to her about it. "Oh please! You are so dramatic. You have not gained an ounce!"

She cupped her hands around her belly. "I have grown at _least_ three inches."

Arwen scoffed at her. "You are ridiculous."

"I am _serious!_ " Arwen grabbed Enguina's hand and led her back towards the tree.

"Legolas will not even notice," she laughed. "You will probably have to undress for him to even see your belly, and then he will be thinking of nothing but the fact that you are naked before him and one thing will lead to another and it will be two hours before he even mentions the child."

Enguina laughed suddenly at the picture Arwen's words created in her mind. "That is too much! But I know you only tease; the first thing he will probably do is talk to the child, not to me!"

Arwen smiled, taking a seat beside the sycamore where Enguina had put the basket. "He will do both, I think. Come and eat, and tell me more about your new home in Ithilien. I want to know every detail before I ever travel there so I will know exactly where it lies upon sight."

Enguina laughed as she sat as well. "I do not know if I can even describe it so precisely!"

"You shall have to try!"

* * *

"Oh! You did _not_ just do that!"

Enguina squealed and dashed away from Arwen in the knee-deep water, the younger elf scampering after her, flinging a torrent of water up with her foot and splashing half-way up her back. It was cold, and she jumped up, but then fell sideways on the slippery rocks beneath her, unable to regain her footing. Thinking of nothing but breaking her fall, she threw out her hands, but Arwen caught her around the chest and grabbed her arm, yanking her upright.

Enguina let a breath out and laid her hand on her stomach, collecting herself so that she could stand up straight. "Oh, thank you!" she laughed, but it was soft.

Arwen eyed her hand and then looked directly into her face. "What is it?" she asked, reaching forward and covering Enguina's hand with her own. " _Enguina?_ "

She let out her breath slowly. "Calm down…I think he just kicked…or something. It startled me." Arwen watched her closely as she straightened.

"We should go and sit down on the shore," she said immediately.

"I am fine," Enguina said, shaking her head, but she kept her hand on her stomach. Arwen helped her up and out of the water, aiming her towards the ground. "Arwen, _really—_ "

"Sit," she stated, and Enguina lowered herself to the grass, a wince on her features. "What are you not telling me?" she asked suddenly, crouching down next to her, annoyance on her face. "What are you feeling?"

"Nothing!" Enguina said, looking irritated herself at Arwen's sudden mothering. "You are beginning to sound like Legolas; stop going mad!" She rubbed her hand along the side of her womb. Arwen's eyes darkened as though she were about to roar and she looked away, counting in her head. "I feel an odd sort of…pressure…just pressure that is all!" she finished quickly when Arwen's head snapped up at the word.

"You need to lie down," Arwen said to her, applying pressure to Enguina's shoulders, but the elf would not budge an inch. She glared at Arwen, and the younger elf gave a frustrated sigh. " _Please,_ Enguina—"

She sighed as well and dropped back against the ground. "Truly, I _am_ fine."

"Hush," she replied. Arwen took her hand and pressed her fingers gently against Enguina's belly. "Here? Perhaps you…pulled a muscle."

"It was _nothing_ ," Enguina insisted.

"You are six months along!" Arwen responded sharply. "Do you _want_ something to go wrong?"

"What?" Enguina cried, horrified. "Of _course_ not! Arwen, what—"

"Then you should listen to me," Arwen stated firmly and she stood up and turned away from Enguina. Her breathing had quickened; she was _so angry_ at the moment that she did not even want to look at her. Desperate to restrain her out of control emotions, she could not believe that Enguina would compromise that precious being inside her after she had…after she… How could she be so foolish! After a few moments, she came and sat down next to her again, this time facing the water as she pulled her knees to her chest. She could not look at Enguina, yet she could feel her eyes on her.

Enguina poked her in the rib cage with one finger. "Are you feeling normal yet?" she asked, staring at her as though she had a tree branch sticking out of her head. A flash of irritation, and then Arwen reined herself in. She was being ridiculous.

"Forgive me, Enguina, I…I am sorry. I did not mean to become so angry."

"What the _hell_ , Arwen?" she asked. "I suppose I can forgive you for leaping at my throat, _and_ I suppose I should be thanking you for telling me to lie down as I do not feel the pressure anymore," she complained a bit huffily, "but honestly, now we cannot even have fun? What the _hell_?"

How could she explain? She turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees so she could look at her friend in the eye. "Enguina, you…have someone so important inside you. That should be more important than...well, almost anything."

"It is!" Enguina suddenly snapped, and she pulled herself to sit up so she could be directly across from her. "This is the first time I have felt _anything_ abnormal, and you are acting as if I do not care!"

"Oh, Enguina, I know you care. It is only that you need to be more aware, more careful," she added. "Even Erumar was reminding you—"

"Lecturing me, you mean," Enguina said waspishly. "I know what is normal for _me_."

"Yet you were not inclined to get out of the water and lie down."

"I _would_ have if it had been worse."

"And what would you have done if it was already worse?"

Enguina glared at her. "I would have begun crying for _you_. Is that what you want to hear?"

They stared at each other, and Arwen blinked. "I keep praying that will never happen."

There was complete silence between them for a full minute. Finally, Enguina breathed out through her nose and closed her eyes. "I _hate_ it when I am angry with you," she whispered. "It feels so _off_. Especially when I feel as though I have no reason to be irritated aside from _your_ stubbornness, and I cannot figure out why you reacted the way you did. You were _so_ angry…and then you made _me_ defensive and…and why should _you_ tell me to be careful, when you are _never_ careful…"

Arwen stared at her, a lump forming in her throat. "I think we had better go home," she whispered, yet part of her wanted to start _screaming_. Her empty womb cried out to her, her stomach crawled as though her lunch was trying to escape, but it was only phantom pain. In the depths of her heart, she heard Éowyn and Faramir weeping as they sat at her bed side, clutching her hands. Her hands wanted to wrap around her middle, but she would not allow them to.

"Ilúvatar," she found herself whispering, "if anyone knows to be careful…" She could not possibly finish, and she threw herself to her feet abruptly and whistled for Asfaloth. Before the whistle was over, Enguina's hand was on her arm, pulling her around to see her horrified face.

"My _god_ , Arwen, _I never meant_ —"

"Enguina, no, I cannot…this is something I cannot talk—" Her own voice cut off and she looked away, trying to turn aside and pull away, but Enguina could not allow her.

"Ilúvatar, forgive me!" she cried. " _I would never hurt you like this!_ Please, forgive me! I do not know what I was…I did not think; I simply did not think!" Tears filled her eyes, and she gripped Arwen's hands as she heard the rhythmic beats of their horses' hooves. " _I am so, so sorry! I did not mean…_ you know I would never do anything to hurt him! I will be careful; _by Elbereth, I swear!_ "

"Let your word be enough," Arwen said her voice low as she chastised her. "I know you would not. I…I forgive you. It is not your fault; it is mine for being overbearing and...let it be." She shook her head gently as she released Enguina's hands, feeling Asfaloth's nose against her back. She turned and stroked the grey's face. "Time to go," she told him, but behind her she heard a sniff.

Turning back around, she saw Enguina choking on tears, her hands covering her face. She went to her side, and not knowing what else to do, took her in her arms. Enguina pressed her face into her neck and cried out through her tears. " _I am so, so sorry! I have hurt you! You are so angry! You have every right to—_ "

"No, no," Arwen said, hugging her tight. "No, I am not angry. Oh, please, Enguina…let this go. Let it go. You did nothing; I internalized what you did. That…that was _me_. Not you. And everything that came of what happened in the river was my fault. You have your own life to be thinking of; you should not—"

"You are my closest friend!" she cried. "Nothing about you is forgettable, especially not something that hurt you so much! _I feel so awful_!"

"I forgive you," she whispered, closing her eyes in her own pain. "It is not your fault. I forgive you; let it go."

"You _should_ be angry," she said, her voice soft and troubled. "You forgive too easily."

 _Oh, dear one, do not give me a reason to be angry. Do not fuel my already upset emotions. Let me forgive you…Ilúvatar, please! Make this stop! I beg you!_

"We should go home," Arwen said gently. "If you would gather our lunch, I will get Lómë and Asfaloth ready to go." She kissed the top of Enguina's head and released her. "Go on now."

Arwen turned back to Asfaloth as Enguina wiped her face…and even though Arwen had forgiven her, she still carried the weight of what she had done within her. She felt more awful than she had felt in a very long time. And looking upon Arwen, Enguina wondered why it had taken her so long to notice that something was so definitively wrong.

* * *

Enguina entered the guesthouse completely exhausted. Though she and Arwen had laughed and enjoyed the ride home, their time spent by the River had rejuvenated neither of them personally. Even the incident in the Anduin was not weighing on her as those two moments with Arwen today. She was struggling terribly to understand what was happening to her friend; the most exhausting thing about the day, even though she _was_ physically tired, had been spending it with Arwen. Feeling terribly guilty over her words about the miscarr—

Her stomach rebelled at the awful word, and she could hardly think it with a child inside of her. Ilúvatar _forbid_ that it should happen to her; that had hit her very hard today. She had more than one apology to make about that subject, and not only to Arwen. She wandered into the other room and found Erumar sitting in the window seat, a book in her hand. As soon as she looked up, she knew immediately there was something wrong. Her smile faded.

"What is the matter, Enguina?"

"I…" she hesitated, wondering where she should begin. Erumar set down her book and Enguina sat down beside her, reaching over to take her hands. "Erumar, I want to apologize to you. I want to apologize for shrugging you off for lecturing me about being more careful with the baby. This is my first child and I…can be so stubborn. Please, anything you have to say, I will listen."

Erumar stared at her. " _Please do not tell me—_ "

"Everything is all right," Enguina said, lying a hand on her stomach, and Erumar leaned back against the window seat, letting out a breath.

"Dear Ilúvatar, Enguina," she said, her voice full of exasperation, "you scared me half-to- _death_."

"Forgive me," she said, sighing. "I did not mean to."

"What happened that you are apologizing?" Erumar asked. "Arwen promised me—"

"Oh, I _upset_ her," Enguina whispered, and she could not look Erumar in the eye. "It was _awful_ ; I did not use my brain and she was upset with me for not being careful and I told her I did not understand why she was being so mother-hen and then…I realized why."

Erumar's eyes closed as she thought about the people's words she had heard. "Ouch."

"It was awful, and I hurt her," Enguina said, rubbing her eyes, but determined she would not cry again. "I apologized a hundred thousand times…but I still feel as though she should not forgive me. Some things are unforgivable."

"Stop that," Erumar chided her. "She loves you, and you her. One set of words spoken is not enough to destroy a friendship of a thousand years."

She lifted her head to look Erumar in the eye. "Some words can. The agony in her face…she remembered every moment of those nights she spent losing the child, I _know_ she did, and she would not speak to me about it."

"No, of course she would not," Erumar agreed softly.

"I have never seen anyone who keeps a secret the way she does," Enguina said. "It is…awful. And she is hiding something else, too. Something is going on with Aragorn, I think. She… _lost_ it today, for seemingly no reason. She is on edge." She shook her head. "I am distressed over it; I cannot get her to talk. I hope Aragorn will confront her—"

"That is not really our affair," Erumar said gently.

"When do you think is the last time they have spoken of what happened four years ago?"

"Again, not our affair," she pointed out, and Enguina scowled.

"We are her friends! When _does_ it become our affair?"

"Is nothing too personal, Enguina?" Erumar asked. "Is nothing out-of-bounds? This is their _life_ ; this city, these people. We should not overstep our boundaries."

 _"And_ she was ill yesterday!" Enguina cried, frustrated, as though she had not even heard Erumar speak. Erumar held up a hand.

"I asked Aragorn about that today at lunch. I met him while walking in the garden and we went to the market. He knew nothing about her not feeling well, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it. Leave her be; he will solve it."

"What if he does not?"

Erumar tilted her head. "She is the most important thing in his world. Why for any reason under the heavens would he not discover her?" Enguina was silent a moment.

"I have to trust him, do I not?" she asked, softly, and Erumar nodded.

"Yes. He is her husband, and he is _very_ trustworthy. Stop picking on him."

"Oh, _Erumar_!" Enguina said. "That was not what I meant. I am _worried_. The only thing I have ever wanted for her was happiness. All those years she was so sad, and today, this was much worse." She laid her hands over her own womb. "I am worried for her, and the loss of the baby still weighing on her like that. I…think that having a child would make her happy…do you not?"

Erumar winced. "Dear heavens, Enguina, I do not know. But saying something like that to Arwen would be the worst possible words you could ever speak aloud."

"I would never," she said, uncomfortably. "Though you were never one for confrontation."

"True," she said softly, "but in this situation you may only cause more harm than good. I would suggest tact."

Enguina shot her a withering look. " _Thank_ you; ever the diplomat. I can make you certain of this: if today is a sign of how uncomfortable it is going to become to be here, we may be heading home sooner than Legolas coming to get us."

Erumar raised her eyebrows. "You were uncomfortable?"

"I felt as though I could barely talk with her," she said, "though perhaps tomorrow will be better. However, if she starts to confuse me again, I am bringing her to talk with you. Perhaps, between the two of us, we could determine what the matter is once and for all."


	16. Chapter 16

_I truly think there may be more to this issue that might require your further attention, my Lord._ Those were the words of Nardur that echoed in Aragorn's head that evening as he made his return to the House. The man's words echoed in Aragorn's heart on so many levels that even _he_ had trouble making sense of them.

The first meaning: another report had come from the Northeastern border. There was certainly a party of Easterlings gathering near the Sea of Rhûn, but they did not seem to be a war party. There were soldiers among them, but they were mostly women and children. Nardur was quite right, though for the wrong reason; this demanded his attention because he took pity on them. Perhaps they were refugees from their homeland; they had lost everything in the Great War. They, Gondor, could offer them shelter, even peace. Even so, it was just a matter of time before a regiment was dispatched to deal with the situation. He doubted it would be any form of war, though he worried about the orcs. Yes, that journey would be upon him soon enough…and he had other, more personal troubles.

The second: suffering through Nardur's dropped hints about going home to Arwen, about an heir. If he had not known better, he would have thought that wild talk was running about the Council in all directions, though he found it difficult to believe that all of that talk was begun by Nardur. Just today he overheard two men speaking of her and he had cornered them and in a polite rage told them where they could shove their assumptions. He was up to his throat in animosity; perhaps a journey to the North would be good for him, but that would leave Arwen with _them_ …and she deserved better than the chatter of the councilmen. A few of these men were thinking it was already too late; it had been four years since the miscarriage; the Queen was barren and that was that. Finished contract; he needed someone who would give him a child. The whole of it made Aragorn's chest ache; he would sooner _spit_ on them. Oh…his bitterness was showing tonight!

And finally: over all of this brewing trouble was the knowledge that his beloved was in serious pain. Physical, mental, emotional…he could point a finger at some of it, but not everything. It was serious; as he had held her in his arms until all hours of the morning, he had known it, even as he had been unable to question her closely. And then to find out from Erumar that she had been unwell and left them yesterday? And then to know she had been in the House all night alone? And to know that he was keeping secrets from her himself? That was _indeed_ troubling.

He opened the door of the House and made his way inside. Yet how _could_ he tell her what had been happening with the Council, with Nardur? Whatever was happening, it would make it worse for her; to know what they had been saying, to know that there was pressure on him from them and others, to know that it would burden her heart with more guilt than he wanted her to bear. No, he would keep these things to himself; he would hold it back from her, protect her, guard her heart. But it was not the sort of thing he could keep hidden forever; sooner or later, it was going to burst forth. They needed to talk before that; _truly_ talk.

But it was _late_ tonight, and with barely any sleep already and an early start tomorrow, he would not wake her to speak of it now. As he changed, he watched her sleeping, more worried for her now than he had ever been. Climbing into bed beside her, he wrapped his arms around her as he had the night before, drawing her back comfortably into his chest. He held her close, noting how peacefully she seemed to be sleeping. Perhaps the ride with Enguina had helped to soothe whatever had happened to her last evening. He closed his eyes as he tucked her head beneath his chin.

* * *

It was the dead of night; the stars were hidden under dark clouds and another thunderstorm was shaking Minas Tirith when his wife's entire body began shaking in his arms. It woke him suddenly, and his arms tightened around her as he wondered how long she had been awake.

"Arwen," he whispered, "what is it?"

There was no answer. Her shaking worsened, her whole body causing the bed to vibrate, and he realized that she was not awake at all; she was dreaming, her lips moving to form unspoken words in the dark. Her voice cried aloud in his head, and he understood why he had woken at all.

He shook her, gently at first, but she was trapped in the dream. He attempted to flood her mind with his presence, his peace, his love for her. It would have been wonderful if he could have woken her that way, but it did not work; he could not push her dream aside to make room for himself, whatever it was. He said her name aloud, shaking her harder, and then suddenly she was wide-awake. Her eyes blinked rapidly, a gasp on her lips as a shudder ran through her entire form. She was so stiff in his arms, he could feel the tension across her shoulders, knew that she was going to try to break away from him, a result of the dream.

"Shh," he said, pressing his lips to her hair, "easy, it was only a dream."

 _Only a dream?_ She repeated the words in her own head, her thoughts scattered to the four winds. _Dread_ washed over her, over and over again; what had begun with the dark-haired woman, her hands on her husband, had soon become flooded with the terrible pain and grief of her empty womb. She choked on the bile that flooded her throat, caused her eyes to tear, as she lay in his arms, horror from the nightmare spiking through her. Struggling to breathe, again she tried to pull away.

"I am here, Arwen," he said in her ear, laying his cheek against hers as he held her tight.

"I…I _know_ ," she whispered back, gasping. She swallowed hard and tried to slow her breathing, tried to control the heaving that wanted to begin. The dream was not letting her go and tears spilled from her tightly closed eyes now; she was shivering, her hands shaking hard as she closed them around his, trying to pull them up beneath her chin.

"Let me get another blanket," he murmured, and she could hear the worry in his voice.

"No, it will pass," she told him. "Please, do not let go of me." She was desperate for his arms right now; she needed him to hold onto her. If he let go, she would fall apart. She pressed her trembling lips to his fingers.

He slipped one hand out of hers and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I will never let go. I will ever be here," he said gently. "I wish that you could tell me that you were all right."

She did not want to lie to him, or she would have told him right then that she was perfectly fine. Neither could she tell him the truth. Instead of doing either, she changed the subject, as she was so good at it. "It…is so late. We are both exhausted," she whispered. "We have had so little sleep." She knew that he was deliberating; he wanted desperately to press her, but he did not want to cause her pain. It made her feel more loved than he could ever know.

"Beloved," he said after pressing his lips to her temple, "we need to talk." His voice was so gentle that she wanted to weep and then tell him everything. Instead, more tears leaked from her eyes as she checked that desire.

"I know," she murmured, "I know, but…for tonight…"

" _Arwen_ …"

"We will," she said in the same tone. "We _will_ …I promise."

He tightened his arms around her. "Be iest lîn," he said gently. "I mela le."

She trembled once, knowing that if she made it through this long night, it would only be because of him. "A i mela le, Estel," she whispered back.

* * *

Arwen woke to the sound of the summer birds' singing, a sound she had not been able to hear at all recently. This was the first morning that she was able to recognize it after these past few fitful mornings due to sleepless nights. Last night had been difficult as well, but she could almost still feel Aragorn's arms around her, comforting and tight, his soft voice praying over her early in the morning after the second nightmare.

It was the second time in two days when someone had prayed over her with similar results; she felt the terrible weight of the burden she carried smother her again. She buried her face deep beneath her pillow and sighed, closing her eyes. _Ilúvatar…what is it that you desire from me? How can I please you? How is it that I can seek your presence and feel no peace? I still feel so restless, so exhausted by this trouble within me. I feel as though your will, your face, is hidden from me, and no matter what I do I cannot find you. You have shown me nothing that helps or heals; I am in such a state of desperation. Help me! I struggle for your hope when I cannot see it._

She whispered her prayer in a chant-like voice:

 _How long? How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?_

 _How long? How long will you hide your face from me?_

 _How long? Must I wrestle with my thoughts_

 _And every day have sorrow filling my heart?_

 _How long? How long will my enemy triumph over me?_

 _Look on me and answer! Look on me and answer, O Lord, My God!_

 _Give light to my waking eyes, or I will sleep in death!_

 _Give light to me or I will suffer; my enemy will shout and sing_

' _I have overcome her'…and my foes will rejoice when I fall!_

 _When I fall, O God!_

 _How long? How long, O Lord?_

 _But I will trust in your unfailing love…in your love_

 _My heart will rejoice in your salvation…that you will come_

 _I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me._

 _He will heal my wounds and deliver me!_

But she knew, as she rolled out of bed, her shoulders tight with sleepless dread that something had to give somewhere. Though she prayed with all her might that she would feel more comfort simply knowing that the One was here with her, she had a sudden thought: it had to be _her_. Perhaps she was the one who needed to move; instead of expecting Ilúvatar to do something, to make a way for her, perhaps she needed to make her own. The thought made her sick to her stomach—when did she do _anything_ without keeping the One close beside her? But he felt so far from her now…so distant that she could not reach him. The heart of all of the desperation that she felt—her jealousy, the people's words, Vändir's anger, the nightmares— _all_ of it, came from her guilt at being unable to produce an heir for the man she loved more than life itself.

She had married the most wonderful man in the world and yet…she could not even bear him a son. She set her jaw, even as she felt more awkward, guiltier than she had ever before. It was time for her to find out if there were something she could honestly _do_ about that.

* * *

Enguina and Erumar walked arm and arm toward the King's House, intending to meet Arwen for breakfast. They had given her a bit more time to rest this morning, especially since this was the first morning Enguina had not been feeling quite so well. Erumar told her that sometimes that was not unusual for Elvish women as well as mortals, though Enguina seemed to think it may have been an after-effect of the day before, from not being careful. Erumar did not correct this idea because she wanted Enguina to think more about what she had been doing.

It was a dreary, rainy sort of day; rumbles of thunder could be heard overhead and out across the Pelennor. At the moment, it was not raining, and Erumar looked up at the sky. "What shall we do today, Enguina?" she asked.

"It is dismal today," Enguina groaned. "It is probably because that is the way I feel."

"I thought you felt better?" She frowned at her friend.

"I did," she sighed. "Now that we are walking, I feel…nauseated, light-headed. Just uncomfortable, I suppose. I want to sit down…and I would like some breakfast."

Erumar snorted. "My…we are grumpy this morning, are we not?"

"A bit," she admitted as Erumar laughed. "Oh hush, I am certain I am no worse than any other pregnant woman that has ever been irritable."

"No, I suppose not," Erumar agreed as the two of them came up onto the porch of the King's House. She opened the door and let Enguina go inside first. "It is a very good thing that you did not want to go riding today," she added.

"Arwen!" Enguina called, and then she glanced back over her shoulder to Erumar. "That is very true; I cannot imagine wanting to ride in the rain. To be wet on purpose? Ugh."

"You were wet yesterday," Erumar pointed out. "You had no trouble getting wet then."

"Erumar," Enguina chided, rolling her eyes, "that was not even knee-deep water." She poked her head into the sitting room. "Arwen?"

"Where is she?" asked Erumar, following close behind her.

"I do not know." She _hated_ to feel that she was prying into her other rooms, but the bedroom was open and so she peeked inside. Not seeing anyone, she walked further into the bath as Erumar walked to the back porch. "Do you see her?" she called back. There was no response, so Enguina came back into the sitting room just as Erumar was closing the door.

"She was not outside either."

Enguina frowned. "What…what should we do?"

"Perhaps she forgot to tell us that she was busy this morning," Erumar suggested. "I am sure it was an oversight. Maybe she thought she mentioned it yesterday when you were at the Anduin." Erumar gave her a little smile. "Or maybe it is because you forgot and she _did_ tell you."

Enguina scoffed at her. "Honestly? I am _pregnant_ , not _brainless!_ I would remember something like _that_."

"I was only teasing."

"I still do not know what we should do. Do you think it is all right to stay in her House when neither one of them are here?"

"Did you and Legolas not cook here several times without them present?"

"That is true," Enguina admitted, laying her hand on her belly. "And I _am_ hungry."

"I have an idea. Why do you not lie down on the divan and rest for a few minutes while I prepare some breakfast? When you wake up there will be food, and then hopefully Arwen will be back. If not, well…"

"Then we will look for her?" suggested Enguina.

"Perhaps," she said. "This is a rather large city, Enguina. I am not sure that will do us much good. Perhaps we shall just find some suitable employment for ourselves for a while. It might do you some good to have a lazy day."

"Napping all day?" Enguina asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know," Erumar admitted. "It sounds a bit—"

"It sounds wonderful. In fact, I am completely for it." She walked to the divan and curled up on top of it. "And in between naps," she said, tugging a pillow under her head, "I can work on the dress Arwen was teaching me to make…what little I can accomplish on my own without assistance."

"I have an idea for something we can craft ourselves," Erumar suggested. "If you are interested."

"I am," she replied, yawning. "After breakfast, we can start whatever it is." Erumar covered her toes with a blanket and she smiled. "Thank you. You are such a good friend."

Erumar laughed, and then teased, "I know; how nice it is to be appreciated!"

* * *

The library on the fifth level of the City of Kings was simply a marvel. Books surrounded the walls, were settled upon shelves, and organized in a meticulous manner that only someone very old would have remembered the categorizing system, training apprentices in its way since the end of the Second Age. It was a place where all sorts of information could be found; a place where all sorts of books were kept. Arwen was learning, as she had spent the whole of her morning and most of her afternoon lost between the shelves, that she had never seen such a place…or in some cases, such books.

Never before had she seen _such_ books! She had been in the library many times, as she and Aragorn both enjoyed reading and they often brought books to the House to read to one another. Most often, she let Aragorn read them; she delighted in listening to his voice. _Never_ … _never_ would she ask him to read aloud one of these…these _atrocities_ that she had come across in her book-skimming today. Her father would never have allowed some of these 'books' in his library, and his had been quite extensive. Her face was warm simply from glancing at some of the script, and there were _drawings_ in some of them that were simply… _unspeakable_. She was ashamed to have held them in her hand, never mind that she had _read_ pages from several of them.

It was wrong, wrong, _wrong_! But what else could she do? What choice did she have? At the moment, she was exhausted and hungry; she had missed lunch, having been here all day. Several times an apprentice or even Frefol, the librarian, had asked her if she required assistance. She would never dare to ask them; this was a personal matter, and as such, she was determined to solve it on her own. But she was running out of possible books to look through. There had been some…information…that she could use to help _position_ herself in a way that _might_ assist her to bear him a child…she did not wish to think of technical terms for any of the things she had investigated today. No one would _ever_ have told her the information she had researched; they would have been the most uncomfortable moments of her life. Now, she needed herb lore, and she could not ask them to help her find it.

Slipping into a short stack of shelving when there was no one near her, she scanned the books diligently, reading the old tengwar scripts carefully but as quickly as possible. Oh, her heart felt like a load of bricks in her chest, and her arms ached as she raised them above her head, her shoulders pulling as though she was lifting that load instead of reaching for a book. This was _shameful_ ; to sneak about this library, trying to hide her purpose, concealing the books she was looking at…her body flushed with the disgrace she felt. If anyone ever caught her…if Aragorn were to know what she were _doing_ here…if Enguina were to walk in and find her…god, she needed to leave right now!

Just as she had made up her mind, her eye caught a very old green-leather bound book. She tugged it down off the shelf and began perusing it at top speed. It had possibilities. She stuffed it under her arm and slipped back out of the aisle, heading to the small table in the far corner lit by a single candle where she had stacked several 'inconspicuous' books that she had been 'looking' at. Did she not have a little clandestine operation going on here? No one would ever have suspected she was doing anything not above board. She nearly fell into the chair in her eagerness to skim and _get out of there_.

Frustrated after several minutes, her patience wearing positively thin, she stumbled upon a section labeled 'For Fertility.' Her eyes boggled back and forth for a moment and she had read the entire first page before she realized she was reading so fast and her pulse was so rapid that she had not comprehended a single word—not even 'the.' Closing her eyes and centering herself was almost impossible, but she finally managed it. She began again.

 _Vitex agnus-castus is the fruit of the chaste tree. The seed and the fruit are used to make_

 _a medicine that is oft found to aid the struggles of infertility and barrenness. It has been_

 _noted by some herbalists that taking this fruit can oft assist in steadying a woman's_

 _cycle. If a regular cycle is known, vitex agnus-castus can increase a woman's fertility if_

 _taken at the height. Taken by mouth in a warm liquid is best, as it helps to be more easily_

 _digested. Nausea and body aches are common side effects. It is also important to note—_

Booted footsteps interrupted her diligent reading, and she suddenly closed the book. Resting her hand on the bare cover, she looked up and met the eyes of Nardur. Her heart plummeted into her toes and she struggled to stay in control of her emotions. Her heart raced, but she prayed that she gave no outward sign to him that she was startled or…otherwise caught in her act of concealment. If she did not know any better, she would have thought he looked like a cat…that had just eaten the largest bird in the henhouse without his master knowing.

"My Lord Nardur," she said to acknowledge him as he stopped right beside her at the table.

"Lady Evenstar," he said, bowing his head with a smile. "What a pleasure to see you here this afternoon. I expected to be on my own in this great library, and here you sit. It is quite a mess outside, so I suppose there is nothing better than to be reading indoors."

 _How, in all the hells of Morgoth, am I going to cover up this book without drawing his eyes to it_? Oh…someone should have written a book to make _her_ more covert, and oh, that she would have read it! This was not her forte! She was not a good sneak at all!

"Is it yet raining?" she asked. "I heard thunder a little while ago, but I have not been outside in several hours."

"Oh, have you been here that long?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, and shifting his gaze to the books in her stack. "And what have you been reading?"

Panic set in. This was far worse than any of her other thoughts on embarrassing possibilities; oh yes, _far worse_. "Truly, my Lord," she interrupted his thoughts as she stood, drawing his eyes to her and not the books, "I had forgotten that I was looking for a book before you came." She shifted the green book closer to the stack so the side of it was hidden—in her alarm, she could not remember if there was any script on the side. "I was searching for a book of children's tales—"

"Children's Tales?" he asked and her heart dropped once more. That look in his eye once again…it made her _so_ uncomfortable…and then to make the foolish mistake of mentioning children in front of _him_ …

"For the Lady Enguina, of course," she added, trying to overcome her sudden feelings. "Or poetry for children. I think she could be interested in that as well."

He smiled; he was almost as tall as she was, so he could look directly into her eyes. "That is kind of you to look for a book for the Lady. It must be hard for you to see her this way and not think of what it would have been like to have your own. Your son would have been three years old now; it truly is such a shame." His voice was full of pity, but it was almost contempt, derision…not true compassion. The grief was immediate; a jab to the gut that took the wind out of her.

 _You…you_ _ **bastard**_. _Never_ had she thought so ill of someone she barely knew. It was everything she could do to not drop to her knees, close her eyes, scream out loud, clutch her chest, or slap him across the face. With barely an outward sign of acknowledgement of his words, she set her hand down on the back of the chair at the end of the short table. He _had_ to know, even if he could not see, how his words affected her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand tighten until her knuckles turned white.

He reached out and laid a hand over hers. "Forgive me, my Lady, for mentioning such tragedy. Sometimes I—"

She yanked her hand out from under his, the tension so thick between them she could barely breathe. "Do not patronize me with words of apology," she forced out, tears forming in her eyes now out of anger, not only pain. "How _dare_ you stand there and look me in the eye after such words? How dare you _touch_ me?" He held up his hands and bowed his head and her hand returned to the chair if only to keep herself upright; if he noticed, it would surely not be mentioned now.

"My Lady, I only meant—"

"I know what you _meant_. Get away from me _, you snake!_ _You and your_ _poisonous words_." Her voice was nearly a snarl; Nardur could not remember a time when he had seen her angry, at least not publically. He took a step back from her, holding his hands up higher in a gesture of peace.

"Of course, my Lady. As you wish. Good day to—"

" _Get out._ "

He turned and walked away, but as he did, that smile crept back onto his face. He knew very well what she had been doing, and he knew very well the exact toll of his words. The moment he was out of the aisle, Arwen blinked rapidly, tears beginning to fall. She reached up to stop them with the hand not keeping her upright.

 _You bastard…you rotten, filthy, cruel_ _ **bastard…**_

"Lady Arwen, are you all right?" Frefol asked, coming to stand a little distance away. Arwen kept her hand pressed to her face, trying to force the tears back into her eyes. That was almost as impossible as speaking around the grief in her throat; somehow, she managed both.

"Fine, Frefol, thank you."

There was silence as the older woman continued to stand, staring down the aisle where the councilman had gone. "I can have him thrown out of the library," she said firmly. "It is a privilege to be among these authors. This is no place for harm."

Arwen knew very well that the woman had been in an aisle nearby and had heard every word. "Please, I do not want any trouble," she said softly.

"Oh, it would be _no_ trouble at all, my Lady. Say one word and he shall be gone faster than you can blink. I like him even less now than I have for the last forty years," she sniffed.

Arwen laughed softly, removing her hand from her face as she looked over at the woman. "He is difficult to be fond of."

"I will make sure you are left in peace," she said.

"You are kind, but I was going to return these books and then head for home. I have been here long enough." The woman reached for them.

"Let me take care of them for—"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head as she turned back, pushing a few books over the green one and lifting the stack in her hands, "I can handle them."

"Please, I insist," Frefol said, picking up the last few. Arwen looked guilty, but the woman would not hear it.

"Thank you," she said, and as Frefol turned aside, she headed up a different way, determined that she was never going to do anything as foolish as this venture ever again. Keeping secrets of any kind was not only shameful, it caused her to lie which was completely out of her element, and it was entirely too difficult for a person such as herself to handle.

* * *

After arriving at the King's House, Arwen made dinner even though it was the last thing in Middle-Earth she wanted to spend time doing. Part of her wanted to lie down and close her eyes and sleep straight through the rest of the night; she nearly scoffed at that, considering how the last few nights had been. The other, a much larger part of her, wanted to seek out Aragorn…and try some of what she had read today. Just thinking of it made her feel…wrong, off, as though she had done something that she should have told him, or that she was _going_ to do something that the two of them should have talked about. But she needed to _act,_ and she was impatient.

She heard voices outside just as she was gathering the plates and setting them on the table; she surprised herself by actually thinking she was glad to have the two of them here so that she did not need to spend the time thinking. Yet more guilt raced through her; how could she be thinking of using her friends that way? Could she not be glad to see them because they were her friends and she loved them? But no, she also wanted to chase the thoughts away of the last hours and seeing Erumar and Enguina walk into the House was the way to do it.

" _There_ you are!" cried Enguina. "We were looking all _over_ for you today, Arwen!" She leaned towards her and hugged her hard. "Where have you been?"

"We were worried about you," Erumar said, shaking back her wet cloak and then removing it to hang it on the wall. "We came for breakfast, but you were not to be found."

"I…oh, forgive me," she said, guilt on her face, "I forgot to mention that I had an errand to run today." She frowned. "I hope you found something to—"

"We did, but we wanted to spend the day with _you_ ," Enguina said, leaning over to take a knife from the counter and begin cutting the chicken apart. "If we wanted to be alone, we would have stayed in Ithilien." She was teasing her, of course, but Arwen knew that in a way she was also completely serious. "One errand took you all day?"

"No, I…was in the library this afternoon looking for a book full of lullabies and stories for you to read to the child. Sometimes, just…listening to your voice can be soothing for him." One lie begets another lie begets another lie…oh, might Ilúvatar strike her for every untruth she had told these past few weeks!

"Oh?" Enguina asked, grinning, as Erumar poured water into mugs for the three of them. "That was kind of you. Did you find one?"

"Forgive me for interrupting, but Is Aragorn coming for dinner tonight?" Erumar asked.

"Perhaps late," Arwen replied, "he was down on the first level today, so he may have had dinner already with someone else. It is quite a walk back." She looked back at Enguina pulling the chicken. "In fact, I did find a book; it is in the other room. I…cannot be certain if it is any good though." She had literally snatched it off the shelf as she went by and never read a single line in it.

"Oh, I am sure it will be," she said, shaking her head. "You give yourself far too little credit."

 _No…exactly what is due, dear one._ She was miserable, and trying not to show it. "What was your day like? It was so dreary, even _cold_ outside."

"Aragorn is going to be so wet when he gets here," Enguina teased, looking at her with a raised eyebrow, "you may have to cuddle him for warmth." Erumar rolled her eyes, but it made Arwen smile, so Enguina kept on going. "You shall have to remove all those wet clothes first though," she continued seriously. "And _then_ cuddle…it would do no good with him so—"

"Enguina, honestly?" Erumar chided, and Enguina pushed her gently.

" _Yes_! He could become ill, and that would be _awful_ in the middle of the summer."

"Are we going to see him for dinner at all?" asked Erumar, glancing at Arwen. "I had hoped we would all be able to spend some time together at some moment."

"Well, at least you saw him yesterday while we were at the Anduin," Enguina added.

"Oh?" Arwen said, as the three of them took their seats.

Erumar blushed. "When I was walking in the garden yesterday, he was looking for you to have lunch. You and Enguina had already gone, so, we talked instead."

"Why are you embarrassed by that?" Enguina asked, setting forks on the table. "You are Aragorn's friend; you can speak to him whenever you like." Even Arwen looked at her closely.

She shook her head. "I…was not supposed to mention what he was doing yesterday. It was supposed to be…secret."

Both of them stopped what they were doing and looked at her. "Secret?" Enguina asked.

"Not like that," Erumar said, frustrated. "It was a _good_ secret. I cannot tell! Come now, do not ruin it." She looked away from their faces. "Eat your dinner."

"Please, Erumar, tell us!"

"Let her keep it," Arwen said with a little smile. "If it is Aragorn, we will find out soon enough."

Erumar sighed. "Thank you. I told him it was going to be nigh impossible with you two, but he did not listen."

"Speaking of not listening," Enguina laughed suddenly. "We never told you what we were doing today!" Arwen looked expectantly at her and then she grinned, pushing her friend's arm. "You know, I should simply hold off. Come over tomorrow morning and we will show you instead. Erumar had the most wonderful idea; wait until you see it!"

"We need to go to the market tomorrow morning to finish it," Erumar added. "Would you like to come with us? Your opinion would be useful. That is, of course, providing the rain stops."

"It does not matter," Enguina stated, "I am to go anyway. I have a few things I want to get before Legolas comes and while they are in my mind, I would like to get them, rain or no rain."

"I would love to join you," Arwen said, though in the back of her mind she thought she would like nothing better than to avoid the market altogether. Something told her that she needed no more reminders of the way the City felt about the child than she already had. The pressure on her was extensive enough…but she could not very well refuse them.

* * *

Enguina had been right for certain: Aragorn was sopping wet when he trudged up the steps to the House. It was a chilly night in a soaking rain, and there was quite a wind picking up. If it had not been the dead of summer, he would have gone inside directly and lit a fire in the hearth. He opened the door and came inside, shaking his head almost dog-like before he entered, trying to get rid of the excess water. Dropping his boots in the corner of the kitchen, he padded into the sitting room, his eyes first catching on the fire _already_ lit in the hearth…and then he lost thought of anything else except the vision near his bedroom.

There was his wife, framed in the doorway, every inch of her covered in a deep sapphire gown; it hugged her slender form and was off-the-shoulder, displaying the curve of her jaw to her neck and out to her shoulder—oh, his breath caught in his throat! She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he would have never remembered if he had been meaning to say something. He could do nothing but go to her as she met him somewhere in the middle of the room, the firelight shining on them. Aragorn reached out and slipped a hand along her jaw, behind her neck, tilting her chin with his thumb so he could press his lips to hers. He would not deny that he was completely captivated by her, overwhelmed by her beauty.

"You are home," she whispered into his mouth as he kissed her again, hardly able to help himself. She had dressed this way for him, there was no denying it; the gown, the way her hair fell down around her shoulders…she had planned for him to see nothing but her once he had laid his eyes on her, swept from his feet. As he held her lips, he could feel her fingers at the edges of his hair, catching drops of water off of them; he imagined them running down her arm…

"Yes, Lover of my Soul," he said to her, and he felt her wordlessly caress his mind. He brushed his nose against hers, his hands cupping around her face to touch his fingertips against the tips of her ears. Then slowly, he brought his hands down to trace from her delicate throat out to her shoulders. He was warmer already.

"Is it still raining out?" she asked breathlessly, teasing him. "I thought you might be cold." He gave her a chance to breathe and kissed along her jawline, back towards her ear, but he stopped before he reached her; feeling her lean in to him in anticipation was enough.

"Not anymore," he murmured low, letting his breath caress her throat as he rubbed his thumbs against the bare skin of her collarbone. His cheek brushed hers and she did tremble then, his lips by her ear. "You are the most beautiful thing in heaven and on earth. That may be blasphemy, but Ilúvatar should never have made someone so beautiful if he did not expect me to tell you." He felt the heat of her skin on his face as she flushed with pleasure at his words and he wanted to press himself against her at that moment, but he was so soaking wet that he hesitated.

"I need to get you out of these wet clothes," she murmured, slipping her nails beneath the high collar on his tunic. Between her touch on his skin and the heat of the fireplace, he was ablaze. "But, are you hungry?"

He brushed their cheeks together again. "Not for food," he answered honestly. "For you, yes…I have a desire for you…" He paused, trying to regain control of himself, his emotions, for more than a few seconds. "I have something for you first…before I am so carried away by you in that gown that I am a lost man." He took his hand away and drew, seemingly from nowhere, a small silver pendant on a chain. She could see it in his hand as he held it between them. "I found it for you in the market yesterday," he said, showing it to her. Wrought in mithril, the silver heart was crafted intricately. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she had ever seen. The secret Erumar referred to…

"It is breathtaking," she murmured. "You should not have…"

"I could do nothing else. You already have my heart, now…you can wear it." He lifted his hands and slipped the chain around her neck, fixing the clasp. He stared at it, and then at her.

"Thank you," she told him, and as he cupped her face in his hands again she closed her eyes. "You are everything I need, beloved."

"I could never ask Ilúvatar for more," he whispered. "You have stunningly dressed for me tonight, and I have desired to see you in that necklace since yesterday…" He paused, waiting as she lifted her eyes to his again. "I am afraid this gown," he said in a voice full of passion, "is going to be removed so shortly. I am afraid I will not have time to fully admire it, as I have spent the day picturing you in that necklace… _and nothing else_."

His words sent a thrill down her spine, and she pressed herself towards him as he closed the gap on their lips again. It was minutes or hours when he finally let her shift back, and he pressed his cheek against hers once more, whispering in her ear.

"Now," he murmured, touching the shoulders on the dress, "before I give myself to the desire you have stirred in me, there is one last thing I must share." His skin felt hot, and he suddenly realized that she was touching him. She had undone the front of his tunic and had slipped her hands inside of it, her fingers playing across his ribs. He tried to stay focused for a few more seconds. "In the morning, I ride early across the Pelennor to Rammas Echor. I will be on the wall two days, to return Friday night to you here." He let her slide the tunic from his arms and he did not bother containing himself any more as he pressed ten kisses along her left shoulder. His hands were beneath her arms now, half on her breast.

"Friday night?" she whispered, almost a groan. Somewhere, in the back of her head, was worry, but she was too focused on him, his hands, his lips to think about what might happen with him away.

"I will stay at the garrison there tomorrow evening, and then return the following night," he said as her hands wrapped around his back. "Will you be all right here? With Enguina, Erumar?"

She would never have told him that she was afraid to sleep in their bed alone. "Yes…and I will be waiting here for your return." She was leaning into him now as her hands traced his spine. "You are soaking wet…"

"It was raining, beloved," he teased, and he captured her lips again for several moments.

"Your skin has a chill…"

"Not beneath your hands."

"I will warm you," she whispered to him, and he sighed longingly, bringing his hands down her back to her hips and then returning them to her shoulders.

 _This dress…this dress needs to go_ … "And how will you do that?"

"Oh…I have many ideas that I think will please you," she replied, her voice as low as his. His hands slipped the dress from her shoulders and she pressed against him, causing him to shift back slightly. She stepped out of the dress as it easily pooled at her feet. It took him almost a full minute to stop his staring at her as she fulfilled his desire—to see her in that necklace and nothing else.

His hands were on her skin before she could blink, and she struggled to do the same to him as she sometimes got lost in the way he touched her. But…she could not lose focus for too long tonight; she could not get lost in the way she felt for him so much that she forgot what she needed to do. His thumbs dragged over sensitive skin and she could not help but press herself against him as she thought desperately for a moment, calling out to Ilúvatar from her heart. _Please, Ilúvatar, please, may I be ready! He is the love of my life that you have blessed me with—may I bless him tonight! Help me bear him a son!_

He bent to brush his lips to hers, but she leaned back only far enough to prevent him. Instead, she took his hands and she led him along to the rug before the fire. He could think of nothing better; he would follow wherever she led him. Only when they had stepped onto it did she begin to really wrap herself around him, his toes curling into the rug.

He thought of nothing but her.


	17. Chapter 17

Morning was breaking at the King's House, and Aragorn stood framed in the bedroom doorway. He had bathed and changed, ready to go to the wall, knowing that he was not going to see his wife over the course of the next day. When his eyes fell on her exhausted, sleeping form, he did not have the heart to wake her. Covered, she lay on that rug in a position she _never_ slept in, after love-making in a position they had never made love in before.

He was _tired_ , physically and emotionally drained. He _never_ felt this way; their love-making always left a good sort of fatigue, the sort that left him feeling renewed, refreshed, thrilled that he had shared himself with his wife, that he had loved her and pleased her to the ability of whatever he had to give. Last night…it had not been the same…how could he ever describe it? Even to himself? Part of the night had been about pleasing one another…but somehow, they had lost sight of that in the face of…what?

There was only one way to describe what had happened between them last night. He had sworn to himself that he would never, _ever_ love her with any other motive than to love her physically because he wanted her, because he wanted to express his love for her. They had promised one another that it would never be about anything else…and something had happened to them last night. They had not made love together…this was something different. This was something he did not wish to describe, did not wish to name in the shame that he felt from the difference in the _way_ they had loved. It felt… _off, wrong_ , and perhaps that was not the trouble, perhaps it was just _him_ that felt so off, so wrong.

Settling his arms over his chest, he studied her. She was more exhausted than him; the way she had been so driven last night, had driven him; oh, he knew he had caused her pain last night! Simply from the position she slept, the way she had been breathing last night, he _knew_. He had pushed too hard, but she had held him, begged him. She had driven him to it, pushed him into it overwhelmingly, but he should have shown more restraint; he should have known better. Ilúvatar, this was his _wife_ , he knew her body better than his own. If his back was aching this morning, hers would be much worse, and the way he had… No, this was as though some unseen force had been driving them, pushing them in ways beyond their strength that they had never been pushed before, and it had not been Ilúvatar.

And worse, he could not wake her and speak with her…how would he even know what to say? Now, when she first woke, would not be the time to talk, and he _had_ to leave. He had to make it right, and he could not. Not now. But, Ilúvatar, did they not have so much to talk about? Something was falling apart! Something was caving in around him, when he had just loved his wife and it did not feel like it! What in all the heavens was happening? He had been praying in a constant string since he had been bathing this morning, but it was more just a silent plea than any set prayer because he just did not _know_ what was happening. But something… _something_ was falling apart.

This was worse than the dreams to him, worse than her waking and crying at night. He had forgotten about all of that, seeing her last night; he had thought that she was better, that she was all right. But it was not only _her_ that needed to be better, which she was not; it also needed to be _him_. The things that had been weighing on him for the past several weeks came and rested on his exceedingly weary shoulders even more heavily than they had been.

He did know two things for certain:

First, that love-making was not supposed to be like what they had done last night; love-making was about _them_ , pleasing one another, showing one another the depth of their love. Last night…last night had not been about them; it had been about something elusive, something in the shadows that was eating them from the inside-out.

And secondly, upon his return, the two of them would do _nothing_ before every single secret they had been concealing was laid bare before the other. He was no longer going to hide, and he could not watch whatever was happening to them continue to happen. This would not do. He loved her too much to see whatever this was tearing her, tearing _them_ , to pieces.

He mouthed the words of how much he loved her; he did not want to wake her. He would never leave without talking to her then, and he simply would not be able to find the words to talk about it now. He turned, and upon leaving the note he had written for her on the table, pulled on his boots and headed to the Tower of Ecthelion. He had one last meeting with the Council before he went for Brego.

* * *

Arwen blinked her eyes, seeing before them the dying embers of the fire she had lit last night. She made to roll onto her side, confused for a moment about the position she was lying in, and suddenly felt startling pain in her back and abdomen. And then she remembered why she had been sleeping on her back; an old wives' tale about better chances; no rolling onto her side, no cuddling around him, and no sitting or getting up of any kind. She could not tell him last night, and she wondered if he thought she had been half out of her mind or exhausted. She wondered where he was, and then she swallowed; Aragorn had left for the outer gate and she was alone.

She lifted her hand to her abdomen and began pushing gently along her lower body. Parts of her were _extremely_ sore, others just irritated. She had definite bruising, and shifting her weight to roll over caused her to wince and bring tears to her eyes. Oh, she had pushed far too hard last night, but she had read that it _might_ help, so she had urged him on. She had known that it was going to be hard, and she had seen the look on his face. Ilúvatar, the look in his eyes! He knew how much he had been hurting her last night, had tried to stop, but she was not about to let him, not when she was so driven to bear him a child. She would gladly suffer whatever she needed to in order to give him a son!

It was so easy for her to cry anymore, and she broke down, feeling the guilt wash over her. What _had_ she done last night? Had she made love to her husband? No! She had _used_ him, to give him what she wanted, what she knew in his heart he wanted more than anything else she could give him. He would never say the words, but he wanted a child as badly as she did! Of _course_ he did. But his words to her had been, 'I could never ask for more.' Oh, he could! He _should!_ She was his wife! It was her duty to provide him with an heir to his name! Was that not her calling? Did the people not think it everywhere she went?

Arwen rolled over to her hands and knees and it was painfully obvious just how much of her _hurt_. God, she had pushed him so hard…and he had pushed back, done what she wanted. She used the divan to drag herself to her feet, exhausted and in pain. Reaching behind her, she laid a hand on the small of her back as she made her way slowly to the bath, in too much pain to straighten completely. She had definitely, between that position she had been lying in and sleeping on her back all night, done something awful to it. She turned on the water for the bath and then stumbled to the sink and stared at herself in the mirror.

 _Who am I looking at?_ _Who am I? Who have I become? Why have I not fallen to my faith, why instead to books and knowledge? Ilúvatar, where are you? Breath of Heaven, light in my darkness, why can I not hear you, see you?_ She should have felt more alive, yet instead she felt beaten-down, miserable, and above it all a terrible, awful shame. She was _ashamed_ of herself, her choices, what she had done, what she felt, and then to think of Aragorn's words. Oh, of _course_ he loved her, there was no dispute! But to _never_ ask for more? Not ever? Now, he might be content, but two years from now? Five? Ten? Twenty? When they still had no children, and she was still barren, and what then? Could he still not ask for more? Oh, she was a fool to even _think_ that this could go on! No, he would never say the words aloud, not to her, but in the depths of his heart? When he cried out to Ilúvatar? What if he ever _did_ ask for more? Was he choosing not to ask because he knew it to be impossible? They had not spoken of a child in the last two years, but had he been calling out to the One all the while, just as she had been, asking, praying, pleading for a child and heir, someone to teach and love and care for…had he? Was he asking for more than she would ever be able to give?

She wept, sweeping her arm out along the counter and knocking over everything on it, yanking her back in the process. Cursing, she sank to her knees onto the carpet, her whole body trembling as she tried to remain in control. She was soon doubled-over both in physical and emotional stress. And still, through it all, she _reached_ inside herself, hoping for that _feeling_ , the feeling that she had felt inside her the morning she had discovered she was with child. She even prayed for a terrible bout of morning sickness to take her as her hands covered her womb. And yet, nothing. _Still nothing_.

She choked once again on her tears, pulling her back as she wrapped her hands around her head, falling forward to her knees. Oh her _shame_! Had she not prayed every single moment that they were together last night that a child might come of their union? Guilt and fear gnawed at her…what if Gildion, Vändir, Nardur, were right? What if she really never could bear Aragorn a child?

"Can you hear me, Father?" she groaned through her tears, her heart so burdened it felt like dead weight in her chest. "Do you even notice me; do you even care? I cry out to you night and day, and yet you do not answer me. Oh, _Father_ , how can I live like this? Every time I _breathe_ I am in pain. I am so ashamed of last night! Why can I no longer love him as I did before, thinking of nothing but him? Now I need something to come of our union, not just to love him! _And I_ _ **hate**_ _myself for it!_ "

If she could not bear the King a son, the line of Kings would end, the line of Elendil would be finished, ended, over and done, and all because of her. As her father had said, Aragorn would eventually die, and then Gondor would fall into ruin with no heir, darkness would return, no one would take up his crown or his sword…she wondered if _that_ was what her father had seen…

She turned her head and stared into the floor-length mirror across the room, looking into her own red face, watching the tears streak their way down it. _Where is the woman who once defied her father to love a mortal man? Where is the woman who fought orcs with the blade of her descendants? Where is the woman who cut Bragolaur's head from his shoulders? Where is the woman who shunned her immortality to be forever with the only man she ever loved?_ Her eyes hardened. She had fought for Aragorn. She loved him, and she would quite literally die for him, so what did shame matter, what did guilt matter, when she knew that there was a possibility that might help them, that might help her give him what he needed? She forced herself to sit upright, gasping against the pain as she wiped her face and clambered to her feet.

She needed to bathe…and then she needed to get herself to the church.

* * *

Aragorn could barely pay attention to this meeting. His thoughts were in a thousand places and he needed to be _doing_ ; riding Brego to the outer wall was an excellent way to decrease his troubling thoughts about Arwen, but sitting in this meeting was enough to make him mad. He could hardly bear one more moment of it. Questions kept rolling around in his mind, the many things that had happened in the past days to cause worry, the many words from citizens and councilmen alike, the great burden he carried, his own exhaustion…He closed his eyes and rested his brow against his folded hands. _Ilúvatar! Help me! Give me serenity!_

"My Lord, are you well?"

The voice was Dintîr's, and Aragorn lifted his head and glanced at the men around him. They appeared concerned, and he frowned. "Forgive me, gentlemen…yes."

"Perhaps a brief respite?" suggested Noldore, and some of the men nodded. "We shall resume in fifteen minutes." Conversation rose up around him as Aragorn reached down to shuffle some parchment and attempt to collect himself. He felt Noldore's hand on his shoulder, and he looked over to him. "Perhaps you could go out on the balcony and take some air, Elessar."

Aragorn smiled at the thought. "Thank you for the advice, friend. I will be a few moments."

"Are you unwell?" he asked privately, but Aragorn shook his head.

"Lost in thought, Noldore, but I thank you for your concern."

As he stepped out, his eyes soared over the plain, the farmers, the City itself, the beautiful summer sky today. This was what he needed, a brief step-back from the world, a moment where he could seek Ilúvatar's face without the world and trouble caving in. From this height, he could see all of Minas Tirith, Osgiliath, and all the surround. There was no doubt that his Kingdom was vast and beautiful…and peaceful. The only storm raging here this morning was within; the clouds had lifted and allowed for a bright, stunning day. He wished they had lifted in his heart. He rested his hands on the rail and leaned all of his weight upon them, bowing his head.

 _Ilúvatar, Father, Blessed One—_

"My Lord, you are giving the people quite a sight to behold."

Aragorn's eyes were immediately drawn to a few citizens who were pointing as they walked along the sixth level. He did not worry for them; instead, he thought of Nardur once again interrupting his moment of peace. Yet it was not only that; the two of them out here alone…it made him uncomfortable.

"I was not thinking of them," Aragorn replied, shaking his head. "I came out here for solitude." He had not meant for the words to leave his mouth as they had; he was not usually so blunt. Perhaps it was better that way…to not mince words.

"You are often alone," Nardur said. "Do you not seek counsel?"

"From the One whose counsel alone do I trust," he said softly, "and that is no more than usual."

Nardur leaned his shoulder against the wall. "I met the Lady Enguina on the street not a day or so ago," he commented. "She was pleasant and quite full of joy. It is a delight to see her in such a blissful state."

"Yes," agreed Aragorn, "their joy is complete, and there is great rejoicing among the people. She and the Prince are very happy, indeed."

"There would be even more rejoicing were the child an heir of _your_ blood." Nardur did not even hesitate as he said the words, and he watched Aragorn's shoulders stiffen. "Even you, Elessar, in all the contentment and peace about you, must be watching the Lady Enguina and wishing that your wife were bearing a child of your line." Aragorn's fingers tightened on the rail, but there was no other outward sign that he was affected by the man's words. He continued on. "I saw your wife yesterday and I was thinking of when she had been full of child herself; I do not know how you cannot see the Evenstar when you see the Lady. I do not think I could do so and not think of it."

"In fact," Aragorn began, irritation rising, "I have n—"

"There is hardly any need to deny it to me, my Lord. One would hardly blame you," he said. "If I can see her in that form, with child, I can only imagine what you see."

Aragorn turned. "Your eyes should not be on my wife," he said and Nardur smiled.

"It is difficult not to notice a woman as beautiful as your wife; she would be the envy of every woman in Minas Tirith and you the envy of every man, if, to be frank, your wife could bear you a son."

That blade that Nardur carried, that these men carried, stabbed him in the heart. He seethed quietly, disbelief his primary defense against his desire to tear Nardur's limbs from his body and fling him from the balcony. Appalled at the man's blatant disregard for Arwen, his fury overcame him.

"How _dare_ you," he said, his voice low, angry. "How dare you presume that I would allow you to speak of her in such a slanderous way? I do not care what your thoughts on the matter are—"

"Oh, you should, my Lord," he said, his face full of pity. "The people only care for you both and for the line of the House of Telcontar to continue; every one of them would see you with an heir, but every one of them also knows that your wife is unfruitful. You love her, and she does you, but there are remedies for these troubles, Elessar, and no one would begrudge you, as a man of action, doing what must be done. Your wife has captured the hearts of the people of Gondor; it would be a devastating loss to them for you to have no sons."

 _Ilúvatar! Help me to not murder this man before me!_

"How…" Aragorn's speech was caught in his throat. "A loss to _them_? Who do you think you are?" His eyes grew dark and terrible. Through clenched teeth, he said, "Do you remember Vändir and his words, his deeds? I have nothing further to say to you, and I am certain that you can have nothing more to say on the matter. Not if you want to stay out of the stocks."

"Vändir was a fool and was full of hate for her," Nardur said, shaking his head. "The people, I, love the Evenstar. We grieve for you that the Lady can bear you no children; it is difficult to accept, but perhaps you should consider the fact that Vändir had a proposal that may have helped y—"

He took an involuntary step back that became a stumble as Aragorn lunged for him, pressing him by the throat to the wall, just inside the light of the balcony, Elessar's kingly face mere inches from his own…the same face that had struck fear into the hearts of the legions of Mordor. "What I cannot accept is that a man such as yourself, with such intelligence, would be such a fool as to think that a conversation such as this could go on and this would not be the end result. I have lived my life to be the husband of this woman, and I know _well_ what your so-called guidance would call me to.

"The council knew it then, and you have known these past few weeks that there is no discussion about this. There will be no debate, no committee, no council meeting, no conversation about it at all. _This is fact_ : _The Lady Arwen is my wife and will be until my life is done._ You will not speak to me of this again; you will give no thoughts on the Lady at all, in fact; do not go near her." His eyes were as burning coals; his hands were cold, he was _finished_ with all of this.

"I have drawn a line in the sand," he vowed. "I am finished with the suggestions, the prodding, the questions, the games… _all of it_. If I receive one more remark, one more proposal of going home to her, one more slander against her, I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your days. Do you understand me?"

Nardur tried to swallow, but Aragorn's arm across his throat was so tight he could not do it. Instead, he forced out, "You will not give Gondor an heir when the time is right? There are—"

" _Ilúvatar decides when the time is right!_ " Aragorn snarled. "It is not up to you! It is not for you to know the time of his plans or to understand them, or for anyone else."

"So you are content to wait forever then?" Nardur spat at him, struggling now to get more air into his lungs. "There are women in this City, in this Kingdom, who would sell their _soul_ to give you—"

He yanked his arm back and slammed it against Nardur's chest, knocking the wind from him as he pressed him forcefully against the wall. " _There will never be another!_ My pledge was until _death_ , Nardur! Have you forgotten the sanctity of marriage? Have you forgotten what it means to love?"

Aragorn pulled back, his fury getting the better of him; all the weight, the pressure, of knowing what was hanging over her, what the people were saying. What could he do to protect her heart? What could he do to shield her from these awful people, awful liars such as Vändir and Gildion and Nardur? He turned away, struggling to catch his own breath.

"The Evenstar knows the truth!" Nardur snapped after him, striding behind him. "Even if you cannot admit it to yourself, speak to _her_ ; she knows that she is—"

The hit to Nardur's face was solid; it was a standard right cross that Aragorn had not used since the War, but it had lost none of its power since then. Nardur staggered back against the wall, stunned but expecting another blow. When it did not come, he raised his eyes and caught Aragorn's, fury in them such as he had never seen, and his voice was deadly.

"You spew your _lies_ out of arrogance. You speak of things you know nothing about; you know nothing of her, nothing of us. _Not another word, Nardur._ _ **Not ever**_."

He was gone from the balcony.

In fact, Aragorn was done with all of it. He strode past the entrance to the meeting room and just kept walking. He was not going back, not until he had gone to the wall, returned to the King's House, and spent another day with absolutely _none_ of this madness! As of this moment, he washed his hands of the council for three days; he held so much anger in his heart he could not be free of it. Though they were not all to blame, he lumped them together. Continuing to stride, whoever was in his path got out of it; no one could stand in the face of his wrath. At the foot of the White Tower, he saw Hildanir and Haneth standing in the sunlight and he made his way down the stairs to them. When they looked over, they both stood immediately at attention; he ignored that.

"Lieutenants," he said, his voice clipped, "I am to ride to Rammas Echor directly. Are you still to accompany me?"

"Uh…of course, my Lord. Whatever you command," replied Haneth.

Hildanir stared at him. "Has something—"

" _If_ I speak at all, it will be on the way," Aragorn replied, but his tone was low. His anger was abating very slowly, but he was trying not to take it out on them. "Whatever you need is already in the stables, yes?"

"Yes, my Lord," Hildanir replied. "All is prepared."

"Good. Let us be on our way straightaway."

They followed him immediately, quiet as the Silent Street, which was exactly what Aragorn wanted and needed just now—to be in silence with his thoughts.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: There is an excerpt from Psalm 69 in this chapter; I did not write it, and I don't own the Bible. Happy reading! (And thanks for your thoughts GuestSE!)

* * *

Enguina and Erumar sat in silence at the kitchen table in the guesthouse, both of them staring at the cups of tea they had been drinking, uneaten food sitting on the table between them. The clock was ticking on the wall, yet it was the only sound aside from several birds that could be heard outside.

"Arwen is not coming, is she?" asked Enguina softly, breaking their silence and turning her fork slowly about on the table. Erumar was still, processing Enguina's question and trying to understand what had come over their friend in so short a time. She was supposed to have been here nearly two hours ago…she was nowhere to be found.

"I do not think so…no," Erumar replied.

"We made plans with her. We arranged that she was going to meet us here for breakfast, and that we were going to head to the market to finish our project for the baby…" Enguina rubbed her belly gently, a soothing gesture, as though the baby needed it. Erumar knew very well who needed the gesture of peace.

"Perhaps something…happened," she suggested. "Aragorn did not come home until late in the evening. Perhaps they decided to spend time together." Enguina raised her head and looked at her, and Erumar frowned and looked down. "I know that is not what happened. I was trying to be positive within this situation."

"Do not make light of it," Enguina said suddenly, the sadness in her voice becoming something more akin to anger. "What _happened_? I have been her closest friend for ages, Erumar! The past few days have been awkward _and_ uncomfortable, with patches of normalness in between; there is something happening! She will not speak to us; she would not last night, and she would not the day before. _What has happened_?"

"I do not know," Erumar said quietly.

"I think you have a suspicion," Enguina accused with irritation, "and you are keeping it to yourself. But I will not press you, because I have no intention of allowing this to go on. I will not let this go on longer than today. I love her, so much that I am going to have no choice but to have a confrontation about this. You may not agree," she said, tapping her finger on the table, "but something has to be done."

"Enguina—"

"Erumar, no," she said, shaking her head miserably. "There is something _wrong_ here; can you not feel it?"

Erumar looked at her, and then nodded slowly. "Yes, I can feel it. I have felt something strange at work in Minas Tirith since we arrived, something foreboding that has been troubling me. I have been feeling it growing stronger these past few days especially."

"I cannot be here like this, at strange odds with her," Enguina said, her anger abating to sadness once again. "How I hate it when I am angry with her! Why can she not just talk with us? Erumar, we came here to be with her, and she wants nothing to do with us!"

"Come now, you know that is not true," Erumar replied. "Maybe something is happening, or has happened, that we know nothing about. If she is our oldest friend, can you not leave your faith in her intact? Perhaps she is overwhelmed. Perhaps she does not know what to say to communicate her feelings. Perhaps Aragorn has not had time to—"

"There are moments she will not meet my eyes," Enguina stated. "It has something to do with me; I can feel it. She is angry or upset or something. Can she not just talk to me? She has always confronted me whenever there has been something that I have tried to avoid speaking of. Our friendship should not be so different in return that I cannot help her. Yet she is so secretive!" Tears were in her eyes as she laid her hand down hard on the table between them. "I will not do this any longer. It ends today, Erumar."

The other elf nodded. "I will not stand in your way. I agree that you need to talk with her."

"You think it _is_ me, then?"

"I…" she hesitated, and Enguina looked at her directly until she felt uncomfortable. "Enguina, I will not pretend to know what Arwen is feeling, but if I were to have any guess at all…being with you when everyone around her is rejoicing over your child when she lost hers…that would be painful for anyone. I think she is in pain; it is no one's fault, it simply is."

Enguina stared at her. "That is difficult, indeed," she said softly, and Erumar nodded. Then she sighed. "We might as well eat and then go to the market. Afterwards, I will find Arwen, and you can stay here and work on our project. I think you are right; it would be better if I confronted her alone." She sighed again, and then closed her eyes. "When I am gone, will you pray for me?"

"And for her," Erumar added. "Of course I will."

"Thank you; I know that will help."

* * *

The church was silent and vacant as Arwen moved quietly and slowly inside. She was glad there was not a single person around to disturb her or ask her about her troubles or see why she was here. She did not see an Elder in sight; it was only her and the One who had created the Universe. Slowly, she moved down the aisle to the front, slipping into the first pew and taking a seat. Sitting in silence for many minutes, she wondered how she should begin any prayer or what she should ask. Every step she took she faltered. She was exhausted, her back aching with every movement—a constant reminder of what she had done to take matters into her own hands.

No matter how she tried to ignore them, the stares of the people followed her, and at night the dreams continued to haunt her. Soon, Aragorn _would_ press her, as he had written in his note. Four simple words aside from his customary tidings of his love for her: _We need to talk._ The words had sunk her heart. She could not hide from him, and she could not lie to him…yet how could she bear to tell him the truth? What would he _think_ of her? He would tell her they needed to trust Ilúvatar, that they must be patient. And the words of Enguina rang in her head, that Ilúvatar's time was not their own, that no one understood his plan fully. She leaned forward, wincing as she rested her forehead against the wooden rail before her. Her heart was _so heavy_ ; she wished that she could place all her trust right now in Ilúvatar, that right now the burden to bear Aragorn a child would be lifted. That right now she would be with child, that the people would rejoice, that she would see no pitiful stares, and that she would feel Aragorn's love for her burn through her pain and grief of losing the child. If only she _knew_ that she was not barren. If only she could receive an answer, a clear sign from the One…

She prayed, her whispered words almost chant-like.

 _Save me, O God! For the waters are at my throat_

 _I am sinking in deep mire, where there is no foothold_

 _I have come into deep waters and the flood sweeps over me_

 _I am weary with grief from crying out_

 _Mighty are those who hate me without cause,_

 _Those who attack me with lies!_

 _O God, you know my folly;_

 _the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you._

 _My prayer is to you, O Lord!_

 _At an acceptable time, O God!_

 _In the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness!_

 _Deliver me from sinking in the mire_

 _Let me be delivered from the deep waters and my enemies_

 _Let not the flood sweep over me,_

 _or the deep swallow me up,_

 _or the pit close its mouth over me._

 _Answer me, Lord, for your steadfast love is good!_

 _According to your abundant mercy, turn to me!_

 _Hide not your face from your servant,_

 _For I am in distress!_

 _Draw near to my soul; redeem me!_

 _You know my reproach, my shame, my dishonor_

 _They have broken my heart, and I am in despair_

 _I am afflicted and in pain_

 _Let your salvation, O God, set me on high!_

 _But I will praise the name of the Most High,_

 _I will magnify him with thanksgiving!_

 _Let heaven and earth praise him!_

She shattered again, and she wept, her head pressed to the rail along with her hands. Oh, how she wanted to praise him in this terrible storm that raged upon her, and how she could not! And the guilt that overcame her as she spoke those last words, how she begged for his forgiveness—for using her husband, for defying his purpose, for falling away, for her bitterness, for her jealousy, for her grief and pain, for her faithlessness! She was _so_ heartbroken, _so_ burdened; she _was_ drowning in the flood of loss of the child, in the shame of being barren, true or not. She heard nothing but her own tears, her own gasping breaths; her shoulders shook with the force of them, her back pulling in pain, but she could not sit up, not beneath such _weight_.

If Arwen had been able to hear, she would certainly have heard the shuffling steps in the aisle, but what she would have done about her tears, heaven would have only known. A way to stop such grief is hardly possible when one is so overcome. As it was, the shuffling came to a halt at the end of the row where she sat, weeping.

"Forgive me, my child," said a crackling old voice, startling her out of her thoughts. "I couldn't help but overhear your desperate prayer."

Arwen could not lift her head to look at the woman who was speaking. Embarrassed, but unable to regain control of her emotions, she gasped out, "Please, just leave me…"

"Oh, dear…old Bethera can't pass you by, not in your grief, not in your sorrow." She heard the creak of the pew as the woman took a seat at the very end. "Let me sit by you; let me pray for you."

"Please…" she whispered, dragging herself upright, "can you not leave me alone?"

"I can't, dear," the old woman said. "I've been the prayer warrior of this church for nearly sixty years. When I see someone who needs prayer, I've got to pray for them."

She wiped her face, trying to remember how to breathe correctly, but as she turned to ask the woman one last time to leave her alone, she saw her face. Bethera was completely blind. She looked in Arwen's direction without seeing, and Arwen felt a certain thankfulness in her heart. This woman did not know who she was, she could not see her. She could not judge her; she could not speak to her of dreadful things, of the loss of the child. She rubbed her face again.

"That is…kind of you," she replied, tears filling her eyes even as she rubbed at them angrily.

"Your voice is so full of sorrow. There must be something I can pray for you."

Arwen looked at her and then closed her eyes, her heart twisting. "I am sorry that you are without sight. Have you always been blind?"

"I lost my sight many years ago, but I've learned to accept. Time has given me the lesson in patience, and I am older and wiser now. It's my lot to be blind; others have the lot to be lame. Ilúvatar heals some, and others he allows to be in pain. Why? No one knows. For how long?" She shrugged as Arwen flinched. "None can know that either. All we can do is trust him; he is with us every moment."

"I am struggling with faithfulness to him…even in my pain." Her voice broke and it took her several moments to compose herself again. "I am desperate to trust him."

"Tell old Bethera," the old woman said, and Arwen looked at her through watery eyes. "Let me pray for you."

She hesitated. She did not wish to give her pain to a total stranger, and the woman was asking what the heart of the matter was. Oh, she knew…everything that had happened, everything that burdened her heart spread from one simple truth. This woman wanted to pray for her, but did she have the courage to even speak the truth? Even to a complete stranger who would never know her?

"I…" Arwen swallowed hard and tried to stare into her kind face. "I…" But that was as far as she could get as the darkness of her grief pressed in around her. She lowered her face to her hands.

"It must be terrible, to be grieving you so strongly," Bethera murmured. "Is it an illness? A death that you can't cope with?" Arwen could not respond, so Bethera continued, "Is it something you want that you simply can't get? To achieve a goal?"

Arwen did not want this poor woman listing every possibility, and it was clear she was going to find a way to have the elf tell her. Her lips trembled, and she kept her hands over her face as she cried out, " _I cannot bear my husband a child!_ " It was the first time she had said the words aloud, and they scarred her heart, relieving none of the pain. She silently wept.

Bethera nodded. "That is tragic, my child. A child brings the life of the line and is the joy of every father." She was able to find Arwen's leg as she moved a little closer to her. She patted her gently on the knee, feeling Arwen's body shaking. "There, there, my dear; I will pray for you. Oh, Ilúvatar is here with you, my child; his arms enfold you and secure you. Trust him."

 _I want to! I want to!_ "I try," she stuttered out, trying to wipe her face again.

"Have you and your husband been trying for very long?"

"Many years," she whispered. "It has been too long; I have been afraid that I…"

Bethera frowned. "You have been to the Healers," she said with a sniff. "Much too often the Healers want to say that a woman is barren, unfruitful, and some are…but perhaps all you need is a little help." She squeezed Arwen's knee. "I think that Ilúvatar placed me here to help you."

"I…I do not understand."

"Listen carefully, my dear," she said gently. "There are some herbs that can help a woman with her fertility. They may help you bear a child; they are uncommon, but with the right herbalist or apothecary, they can be found quite easily. Many young women find themselves in your predicament. You and your husband regularly lie with one another, I hope." Arwen could not reply, unwilling to speak about such things with a stranger, but Bethera seemed to know this. "If you've been trying so hard, I'm sure you are."

"I read about such herbs," Arwen said softly. "I should probably speak with my husband." She knew she never would mention such a thing to Aragorn; she would never be able to speak the words.

"Sometimes," Bethera added, "Ilúvatar gives you help when you least expect it. I can tell you where to find the herbs that you need."

Arwen hesitated. "I…we believe that Ilúvatar will answer our prayers for a child."

"He _has_ ," Bethera said, patting her knee again. "Go, see the herbalist on the second level, all the way back against the east wall. She is remote and quiet, and you will not feel embarrassed there, as I know her quite well. That would be the place to attain them in some quantity, as taking them for a little while is the best method. I have heard they help foster fertility almost immediately, but it works best when you have taken it a month." She smiled. "I think Ilúvatar sent me here today, to the church, to tell you this and pray for you."

Arwen lowered her hands and studied the woman. There was doubt in her heart as Bethera spoke, but perhaps this _was_ the sign that she had been waiting for. She had prayed that Ilúvatar would give her a sign, and this old woman was here lending advice on the herbs that Trena had spoken of weeks ago, herbs she had read about in the library even yesterday. She did not speak in her uncertainty.

"You're confused and unsure," Bethera said kindly. "Nothing is easy in a situation like this. If you want to bear your husband a child, you'll have to do something to help yourself. Ilúvatar will meet you half way."

Arwen shook her head. "I was taught that Ilúvatar is with us always, not only when we want him or seek him," she whispered. "He helps everyone, and always when they do not have the strength to carry themselves." She _believed_ that, had _seen_ it herself…then why did she feel as though Ilúvatar had abandoned _her_?

"That is true, of course, but think on this: if you did not lay down with with your husband, could you be pregnant? Sometimes, we must also make choices. It is your choice, my child," Bethera replied. "I think Ilúvatar puts people in our way to help us; I know why I am here. Let me pray with you right now, and then I will go."

Bethera's prayer was long and kind, reminding Ilúvatar of all the good things he had done, how many lives she had seen changed by prayer. Then she spoke of the woman before her, how much she needed his guidance and help. Finally, she thanked Ilúvatar for placing her in this church to be in the right place to help. When she finished, she prayed as though the blessing of a child _would_ happen, without any doubt. Such certainty made Arwen feel as though she had fallen away from Ilúvatar so utterly—was it not Ilúvatar's will that would have her bear a child? She was so confused.

She took her hands from Arwen's leg and slowly stood. "My child, go in peace, and remember that Ilúvatar is with you. I will continue to pray for this blessing."

"Thank you, Bethera," she replied softly, wiping her face again. "For your kindness." The old woman nodded, and Arwen watched as she made her way down the aisle and out the door, wondering that Bethera had never even asked for her name.

What should she do? She felt guilt curdle in her stomach as she painfully tried to straighten—she had been sitting in this one position too long. She _should_ speak with Aragorn; this was a decision that required communication, did it not? Or was this something she could do on her own, just begin taking the herbs even though she did not feel Ilúvatar moving in it? That was so strange when Bethera had such faith that she was meant to be here, giving her advice! She… _could_ get the herbs and then make the decision not to take them. Getting the herbs did not mean she _had_ to use them. She could talk to Aragorn when he returned…

Oh, why was she fooling herself! She knew she was not going to do that, to tell him! She was simply going to take matters into her hands and try it. The worst that could happen was that it did not work at all, and then there would be no harm done and Aragorn would never have to know. It would be her personal failure—again. Her hands wrapped around the wooden rail and tightened like a vise. For every secret she kept from him, she felt more burdens, more weight. She had never had so many secrets through their ten years of marriage, and now, she felt as though she was concealing everything. What would Aragorn _think_ of her?

And yet the very thought of something that might help continued to press down on her.

* * *

Bethera lived not far from the church, so she arrived at her home in moments; she knew the way so well, as she hardly ever left the church street. Going inside, she closed the door firmly behind her, and then reached out to find the chair that was near her door so she could sit down.

"Bethera, did you forget I am here?"

"Of course not, Ethring," Bethera said, sitting back comfortably in her chair. "Oh, that young woman was so full of sorrow. Your friend is having a terrible time of it."

Ethring leaned forward, setting his hands on the table. "I want to thank you for giving her that message for me. I could not deliver it myself; she would not understand if the word came from me." Was lying to a blind woman and smiling while you did it a sin? If it was, he should have felt _some_ guilt.

"I told her what you wanted me to mention, about your friend that you know quite well at the apothecary," she replied. "I reassured the girl that Ilúvatar was good and would give her a child. I've seen these herbs work before, though I don't know the herbalist as well as I stated. At least you know her."

"Yes. Thank you, Bethera, for your kindness," he said, "and Gondor thanks you as well."

"It is service to Gondor to tell a young woman where to find fertility herbs?" she said, confused. "How is that an important service to Gondor?"

"You have no idea, but it _is_ veryimportant," Ethring replied, standing. "Please do not tell anyone of this; I would not want my dear friend to discover that I did not want to tell her myself."

"Of course not. Good day, young man."

"Good day, Bethera," Ethring replied, a smile on his face.

This had been a job well-done. Nardur would be pleased.

* * *

Arwen stood, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe of the kitchen, her eyes fixed on the cabinets. She had only arrived there a little while ago, around four or so, and the bag of powdered herbs was now tucked away behind the third door. Concealed, like everything else that had been going on. The trip to the herbalist had been short, and if the woman had recognized her, she said not a word. Now that they were in the House, it was all on her head whether she actually took them or not. She still was unsure; the guilt weighed down upon her.

She was brewing tea at the moment, desperate for some relief from the pain in her back. Walking from the second level to the seventh had taken such a toll on her. Exhausted, all she wanted was to lie down and rest. She turned and went to the divan, hoping that she could close her eyes for a few moments while she waited for the tea. She had just leaned her shoulder against it and tried resting her head when there was a rather loud knock on the door.

" _No…_ " she moaned to herself. " _Please, go away…_ " She wanted to be alone in the silence; left in her misery and shame. She was not going to get up now; it required far too much effort and her back tightened even as she shifted. She laid her head back again.

The knock came again, this time with a voice. "I know you are in there," came the words from outside, _Enguina's_ words, "and you had better let me in, or by the grace of Eärendil I will _make_ my way inside!"

She sounded a bit angry, and Arwen could hardly reason why. Wincing, knowing that she could not very well pretend she did not hear her, she dragged herself to her feet. By the time she reached the doorway, Enguina had somehow managed to jig the lock open and was standing in the kitchen.

Before she even noticed the way Enguina was standing, arms crossed, lips tight, she spoke, a slight laugh in her own voice. "Breaking and entering now?" she teased. "I was coming, you know."

She stared at Arwen, and finally, the elf noticed her expression and stance. "Where have you _been_?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. Arwen knew a motherly, expectant tone when she heard one, but she could hardly think why Enguina was so angry. But she could not very well tell the truth, so there was no choice but to try to lie convincingly. Not her strong suit.

"I was—"

"Do not dare say 'here,'" she stated, openly glaring now. "Erumar and I were here five times today. _Five_. And each time we came the door was open." She hooked a finger over her shoulder. "Now, it was locked. You were supposed to meet us this morning at the guesthouse to go to the market, remember?" Suddenly, it all came flooding back to Arwen, their conversation from last night about something they were making, and that she had agreed to help. Enguina saw the realization in her tired eyes. "We had planned on having lunch as well, but you were not here for that either. Where _were_ you?"

"I…forgot," Arwen admitted, frowning. "I was…in the City."

"You were in the City," Enguina repeated.

"Yes," Arwen replied, starting to feel defensive.

"Do you care to explain that?"

"No," she said crisply. "I had something that needed to be done."

"You could not tell one of us?" Enguina asked, her tone concerned now instead of angry. "Arwen, we _waited_ for you to come. We were worried about you."

"I was fine," she replied. "I am sorry that I forgot that I was supposed to meet you."

"What about yesterday?" she asked. "We searched for you everywhere, and then you were in the library, looking for a book."

"I _was_ looking for a book," Arwen said, straightening. "You do not believe me?"

"I _do_ believe part of what you are saying," Enguina replied, reining her accusations back a little bit. "You are truthful about some things, and _terribly_ lying about others. You never could tell an untruth well; you were never good at that."

She could not respond to that and tell another lie. "Are you coming inside?" she asked, trying to redirect and avoid.

"I am not sure," Enguina said, as Arwen had turned half-away towards the sitting room. She reached out and caught her arm. " _Arwen_ , we need to talk."

The jar on her back was immediate and stabbing; if she had been turning any more quickly, she may have doubled over. As it was, her breath caught in a gasp and she turned back to prevent any further yanking.

"What is the matter?" Enguina asked, staring at her.

Arwen shook her head, trying to breathe evenly, tears in her eyes. "I am fine. Do not worry."

"Do not _worry_?" Enguina said, her voice clearly upset. " _Do not worry?_ All I have done these past few days is _worry_! You tell me you are fine, though you are clearly exhausted and today you are in pain; I can _tell_ sleepless nights, Arwen, after having them myself! I hurt you with my words; you are on the edge of tears half the time we speak; you can barely look me in the eye! You have even been avoiding spending time with us the last several days, and we came here to see _you_! What is going on? You need to talk to me! _Please!_ "

"I…" Arwen began, and then she shook her head again. "Enguina, _please_ , let—"

"I _cannot_ let it go! I _will not!_ " she cried, tears coming to her own eyes. "I am your closest friend, and I love you! You have to explain yourself; you have to tell me what is hurting you, what is gnawing at you. You _must_."

"I cannot…I cannot explain…" Arwen said, her eyes catching on the swelling of Enguina's abdomen that seemed to grow in the time that she glanced at it. The pain wrapped around her ten-fold.

Enguina looked at her firmly as she wiped a tear off her cheek. "Arwen, you have forever been here for me. You stood beside me for thirty years, never allowing me to fall, comforting me, taking care of me. All that time, even though I did not want you, you never left my side; you never let me go. If you cannot tell _me_ , if you cannot find it within yourself to speak about what is troubling you _with me_ , then I cannot stay here any longer."

Arwen stared at her. " _What?_ " she whispered in disbelief. Her heart plummeted into her toes, fear of this falling away burning its way through the cracks of her already broken heart. Enguina could not leave! Not now! Not when her whole world felt like it was falling in around her! She had been chasing Enguina away at top speed, but this was terrifying. The fear of losing her was too much.

Enguina wiped another tear away roughly. "If you cannot tell me the truth about what is happening to you, what is tearing you to pieces, I will not stay here. I will not have you avoid me; I will not be constantly forced away; I will not be hurt like this. I _came_ here because of _you_ , to share my joy with one of the people I care most about in the world. But I will not stay like this." She shook her head. "I will have Erumar prepare—"

"No!" cried Arwen, breaking down suddenly into tears. "No, please, Enguina! I beg you! Forgive me; do not go! I have been so cruel to you, and to Erumar! I did not mean to hurt either one of you!" She dropped her head into her hands and wept openly, her shoulders shaking. " _You cannot go!_ "

Enguina took pause. The waves of pain coming off her friend were overwhelming. She did not cry only because Enguina had threatened to leave, she was crying for whatever she was carrying that she had been burying deep inside. Enguina did not reach out to hold her…not yet.

" _Tell me_ ," she said simply, quietly. "What have I done that you have been running a hundred leagues an hour in the opposite direction?"

Arwen lifted her head, looking into her face. "I am so ashamed!" she cried. "I have been so…so distraught! I have been jealous of you!"

Enguina looked at her, stunned. " _Jealous?_ " And suddenly, all sorts of confusing details fell into place. "Oh, _Elebereth, Gilthoniel…_ "

"The people look at you, they thank _Ilúvatar_ for the blessing you have received," she stuttered out in between her tears. "They have given you gifts directly in front of me! And all the while I had no idea what I was feeling! I thought there was something _wrong_ with me, and there _was_ …something _awful!_ I saw the way they looked at you, and then the way they looked at _me_! The things they have _said_! I have been torn apart these past two weeks!

 _"I want what you have!_ " she cried out. " _Almost more than anything!_ Sometimes, what I feel when I look at you _fills_ me with self-loathing! I have tried so hard to fight it! You are my best friend! Why can I not just feel joy for you? I am _thrilled_ for you! _Thrilled, delighted_ beyond measure that you are having a child! Ilúvatar has blessed you so abundantly and I am filled with happiness for you! I am! _I am!_ "

Her voice broke and she could not speak anymore through her sobs; her knees gave out and she dropped to the floor, and then doubled over in pain from her back. Enguina was there on the floor with her; she knelt down beside her and covered her shoulders with her arm. How could she have not known that all this time, _this_ was what she had been at war with? She had arrived, beaming with child, and Arwen had been so excited to see her, but all the time in the back of her mind was the one she had _lost_. How could it _not_ be? And then the people's looks and words, how they must have been tearing her apart, knowing that they once had looked on her with so much joy, that once _she_ had been bearing a child just as Enguina was now. Oh…how could Arwen have hidden this for so long?

" _Elbereth,_ " Enguina whispered again, her eyes closing in silent prayer at her friend's pain.

" _Please forgive me!_ " Arwen cried out. "Oh, Enguina, _how_ I have _wronged_ you! I have pushed you away because there were times I could bear looking at you no longer, knowing that you have what I _cannot_ have… I have been in _such_ pain, filled with _grief_ …and that is no excuse! Not for what I have done to you, made you feel! It is not your fault! It is _mine_!"

"Nononono," Enguina muttered soothingly. "Arwen, _Arwen,_ I forgive you. You cannot help what you feel, and you cannot hide it. This is not anyone's fault; there is no one to blame. It simply is. Oh, how I wish I had known what you were feeling! How I wish you had told me, so that I could have been comforting you, that I could have been sensitive to this before. I did not realize what a burden this could become for you."

"No, it is _my_ burden!" she cried. "You should not have known it! You should not carry it! You are going to be a _mother_! Why should you feel anything but joy? This I must accept alone! And I have tried! I have tried, desperately! I have to find a way! It is not fair to you!"

 _No, love…but it is not fair to you, either._ "You are in such pain," she whispered, stroking her hair. "I never noticed how the people—"

"No, no, why would you? They look at you with _joy._ They see me, without a child, and they frown with disappointment, with ridicule. They _know_ that we are lovers," she said, her face still buried in her hands. "They know that Aragorn lies with me; there have been words about my barrenness, my childlessness, that the…" Once again, the word would not come; she could not ever say that word aloud. She choked on it, still crying. "My loss has made it impossible."

"That is not true!" Enguina whispered fiercely, horrified. "They have not been saying—"

"There are many!" Arwen groaned. "Their poisonous words destroy my heart! We have been married ten years and yet I…I…" She cried in her grief. "I cannot bear Aragorn a child! The line of Kings will _end_. One day Aragorn will die, and Gondor will fall into ruin and decay! Ten years I have prayed and begged and pleaded with Ilúvatar…and then…and now I have been begging him to take this from me! To take this guilt and grief and _agony_ I feel! I cannot bear it!"

"It is not your _fault_ , Arwen," Enguina said, horror on her face. "You have done nothing wrong! The people are _wrong_! You are guilty of nothing! That was not _your_ fault! Oh, _Ilúvatar,_ why are you still carrying that burden?"

"I cannot bear him a son! There is something wrong with me!"

"Arwen, _my god_ , you are an elf! It takes _time_ for us to conceive! It took Erumar and Haldir almost five hundred years to have their first child!"

" _We do not have five hundred years!_ "

Arwen's outburst was a slap in the face. She and Legolas had _eternity_ to love one another and to bring children into the world. She had been blessed by Ilúvatar to have a child so soon; she _knew_ that. Remembering that Aragorn was mortal, knowing that _Arwen_ was now mortal, changed everything. If it took five hundred years for Arwen to conceive, even with the gift of long-life, Aragorn would be dead before she ever would. There was nothing Enguina could say. She could not answer for Ilúvatar; she did not know why he had not given them another child to love. She did not know why he had given one to her instead of Arwen.

" _Arwen…_ " she whispered, "is there no way to make peace with this? Have you spoken to Aragorn? Have you told him about—"

"I cannot!" she said with tears still pouring down her face. "He cannot know about all of this! He cannot bear this for me; no one can. He would think me a fool for my feelings toward you, and if it is true, if I cannot ever bear him a son, then at some moment, even if it is years from now, he will _despise_ me."

"No, he would not; Aragorn would never!"

"Never openly," she said with grief, "but he would always be secretly pleading in his heart for a child…and how could he forgive me, if I could never bear him one?"

"Arwen, _no_ …he loves you more than anything," she denied firmly. "You _have_ to talk with him. You have to tell him this."

"He will not forgive me _now_ ," she whispered, more tears coming as her head began to pound violently. "He will not forgive me…for the things I have…for what I have been…"

"What will he not forgive? What has happened?"

She shook her head violently. "I _cannot_ , Enguina! I cannot speak of it!" Her guilt made her sick, the pain in her back made her head swim.

"Is there no way for you to make peace with this?" Enguina pleaded again. "What can I _do_ , Arwen? What can I do to help you?" Seeing her friend suffering like this was too much to bear.

"I have tried _everything_ ," Arwen moaned, one of her hands covering her abdomen. "I have been praying for days; I have been waking at night after terrible nightmares, sometimes of the baby, others about… _worse_ things; I went to…I went to the library," she choked out, "because I thought I could find something that might help me and I tried…I tried to…I _pushed_ Aragorn last night when we…and I…am full of shame at what I did, and I…I am…"

"You are in pain," Enguina suddenly realized. The way Arwen was kneeling, the way she was curled in on herself was not only emotional agony. "He hurt you last night."

" _No!_ " Arwen cried out, beginning to cry again. There could be no blame laid at _his_ feet! "It was _me_! _I_ pushed him! I had him love me as one of the books was written and it _hurt_. There is something _wrong_ with me; it is _me_. It has always been me…and I…I _hate_ myself for last night, for what I made our love to be. I used him abominably. _I am so ashamed_." Her voice had faded to a broken whisper.

Enguina sat still, staring at Arwen's bowed head that nearly touched the floor. She ran her fingers gently through her hair, combing it through with her fingers. She thought of the tally of Arwen's suffering: the guilt of the loss of the child, the grief of that loss as well, the words and stares of the people, the accusation of barrenness, the guilt of her jealous feelings, the shame of coveting a child that was not her own, the fear that she might never be with child, the fear that there would never be an heir and Gondor would fall, the fear that Aragorn would despise her if she never gave him a child, the fear that he would despise her when he discovered what she had already done…her head spun.

"If anyone else tried to bear this much on their own shoulders, they would be crushed beneath the weight of the burdens they carried. _You cannot bear these burdens alone_ ," Enguina said gently, tears filling her own eyes. "The weight of what you are carrying is beyond you; let Ilúvatar alone be your strength, Arwen. You have to leave these burdens at his feet."

"I tried, I tried," she murmured. "It is _impossible_. I reach for him, and it is as though he is not even there." She finally lifted her head, gasping as she reached to lay a hand on the small of her back. "I am so sorry…for laying all of this on you. This is my burden to carry, my road to walk—"

" _Stop_ saying that," Enguina said. "You are _hurting_ , Arwen. It is not your burden to carry at all. Give it away to Ilúvatar! Let him take it, before you _kill_ yourself." She lowered the hand on Arwen's shoulders to her lower back. "Your back is in pain?"

"I did so much walking today," she said, her voice low. "I hurt it last night, this morning…I do not know. It _hurts_." It was clear, as her eyes studied the floor, that she did not want to admit that. "And it _should_ …as a physical reminder of the shame I should bear for what I have done."

"Stop punishing yourself," Enguina said miserably. "I cannot stand it when you say things like that." She looked up and heard the kettle boiling. "You were brewing tea; I recognize that scent." She stood as Arwen nodded. Enguina took the kettle off and drained tea into a mug, leaving the rest just off the fire Arwen had lit. It was obvious to Enguina that the tea was full of the herbal blend of pain relievers that Aragorn had made them some time ago. "You need this," she said, "but let me help you to the divan first."

"No," Arwen said, wincing as she tried to straighten, "I was supposed to make—"

"Erumar and I can handle dinner tonight," she said. "You are _exhausted_ , Arwen. I saw it when I walked in, and I can see it even more clearly now. Exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. You need rest. What else hurts? Do you need a warm bath?" Arwen shook her head slowly, her exhaustion hitting her ferociously now. She tried to wipe her face, and Enguina knelt back down beside her, helping her. "I am going to get you to the sitting room and you can lie down there. Come on."

It was a struggle for Arwen to get up, and Enguina was becoming increasingly worried. Arwen told her to forget it; she had pulled her muscles and needed the tea to relieve it. She helped her sit on the divan, but Enguina could tell she was very uncomfortable.

"I cannot imagine what you could have done to your back for it to be this bad."

Her face darkened with humiliation. "I was bent awkwardly. I…do not want to explain," she whispered. She would not say more, and Enguina went to get the tea. When she returned, she pressed it into her hands. Arwen began blowing gently on the surface and trying to drink it.

"He should have stopped," Enguina said softly, studying her. Then she thought of Legolas, and her urging him on…would _he_ have been able to stop? "He should have known he was hurting you."

"There was no mistake," she said, closing her eyes. "He knew. He tried and I…I would not let him stop; I begged him, pleaded with him. I would not let him. The position…it was supposed to help…it was difficult for both of us, and I could not tell him why and then I…" She shook her head. How could she explain the feeling of the loss of connection she felt with him when they could not lie together as usual, when they could not hold one another because she was not supposed to move for a time afterwards? It was definitely what had finished off her back, falling asleep in that position.

Enguina did not know what to say.

"I have so much… _shame_ …" Arwen whispered instead. "We did not…we did not make love last night…I used him, trying to have a child." The horror in her voice made Enguina's breath catch.

"Oh, dearest," she whispered and she reached out and stroked her hair, "you have to free yourself from this burden. You are exhausted; you cannot even think straight. Finish your tea and lie down." She kissed her temple and watched her eyes fill. "I will bring Erumar back with me and I will wake you when dinner is ready. Will Aragorn be joining us?"

Arwen slowly shook her head. "He is out on Rammas Echor; he will be with the guard tonight. He does not return until tomorrow."

"All right," she replied, running her fingers through Arwen's hair one last time. She watched her eyes close; it was small comfort, Enguina thought, but every bit helped. "Lie down and rest," she said as Arwen finished what she could drink of the tea. She was too uncomfortable to sit upright anymore, so she lay down and she reached out to catch Enguina's hand before she turned to far away. Their eyes met.

"Forgive me…" she whispered, and Enguina frowned. "For what I have felt…for my behavior towards you. I never meant to hurt you." She swallowed hard. "If you still need to go, I understand."

Enguina shook her head, looking horrified. "Arwen, stop asking for forgiveness! None of this is your fault! You cannot help what you feel. And I am not leaving," she added, squeezing her hand. "I was only going to leave if you no longer wanted me. There would have been no point in staying. There is nothing to forgive."

But she could see the guilt in Arwen's face; it was obvious that even though Enguina felt she had done nothing wrong, Arwen was grieved over the transgression she felt she had committed. Enguina let her hand go and reached out, stroking her face. "I am not angry with you," she told her gently, "but I will forgive you if you need it. Please, Arwen…rest and let this go." She stroked her face again and then turned to leave, absentmindedly doing the same to her own abdomen.

Arwen's eyes caught the motion and she closed them tightly, unable to prevent more tears filling them. As she heard the door close, she whispered, " _Oh, how I wish I could…_ "


	19. Chapter 19

Arwen knocked on the door to the guesthouse and Enguina called for her to come in. As she did, she thought about the events of last evening's long night. She had known when Aragorn left in the morning she was going to be unable to sleep in their bed alone; she did not know why she had even tried. Finally, after three nightmares, the last of which had reduced her to a sobbing mess, she had gone to the back porch and fallen asleep in the chair. Thankfully, she had slept through the night on the porch, however the morning and standing up had caused her great regret. Her back was so stiff from the evening that she was struggling to do much of anything. Now that she had stretched it out, it was not as terrible, but the first hour had been almost unbearable. The herbal tea was in her body now, and that seemed to be helping.

"You almost never sleep in," laughed Erumar as she came into the sitting room. "Did you eat breakfast on your own?" Erumar and Enguina were seated on the floor.

"I did," she replied, frowning. "I had to in order to drink that tea for my back; it should not be taken on an empty stomach." She looked away from Enguina's eyes. "I was worried that you would be angry this morning thinking that I was not coming."

"No," Enguina said firmly, "and we agreed to put it behind us. Come and sit down and see what Erumar and I are up to, and cheer up. There will be no grumpy faces in here today."

Arwen rolled her eyes, but could not help but smile as she made her way over to them.

"Here," Erumar said kindly, "we put these pillows on the loveseat so you would be more comfortable up there."

"And do _not_ be embarrassed," Enguina added. "We were trying to be thoughtful. Is it better today?"

Tears filled her eyes as she settled down against the pillows. "No, it was worse," she replied around the lump in her throat. "I fell asleep outside on the back porch and I woke _so_ stiff this morning. It is getting a little better as time goes on…if I keep moving. Thank you both." She sighed, and tried to move off the topic of herself. "Enguina, how are you feeling this morning?"

"I felt a bit off-color earlier, but I am right as rain now," she said, grinning. "It is…unnatural to be feeling nauseated. I am glad it does not last long. I remember that…" She stopped and hesitated.

"Yes," Arwen said, nodding, forcing past whatever she might feel, "I felt ill at strange hours of the day and for long periods of time. I am very glad that you are avoiding all of that."

"Me too," she said with relief, and Arwen assumed it was for more than one reason.

"So tell me what you are both working on since you have been very secretive. The colors are _lovely_." On the floor before her were bunches of colored beads, wire, and string. Enguina and Erumar both had pieces in their hands and were stringing beads along the wire.

"Erumar had this wonderful idea to make a mobile," Enguina said, laughing. "But it is not going very well."

"Oh, stop!" Erumar laughed. "It is going just fine. It just needs a bit of work. We realized that we cannot simply make designs without knowing _what_ we were making because the colors would not string correctly. We ended up having to take out all of the strings we made yesterday—"

"Erumar was stabbing herself with wire," Enguina added, "and not on purpose."

" _Thank_ you, Enguina," Erumar commented dryly. "Anyway, so we are stringing beads into colors and _then_ forming them into shapes. I am currently trying for a turtle, Enguina is making… _something._ "

Enguina put her tongue out. "It was supposed to be a horse, but…well, I think it might be better served as a white lamb or something. I was trying for Brethil."

Arwen smiled. "Perhaps I can help you shape it once you are finished putting beads on. If it is not too much trouble, hand me some brown beads, and I will make a rabbit."

"That would be wonderful!"

Within moments, the supplies were passed up to Arwen so that she could craft from her lap. "So is this what you have been doing since I came this morning?"

"Well, Erumar ran to the market to get some more colors for us," Enguina said but there was a gleam in her eye. "I think she went there for something else as well, though she will not tell me what she brought back with her."

"Honestly, Enguina," Erumar said, but Arwen could tell there was a bit of a blush on her cheeks. "I brought nothing back with me. I was…just looking at something that caught my eye."

"Such as?" Her eyebrows rose. "Come now, Erumar; just a _little_ information? Not even a _little_? Is it for the baby?"

"If you _must_ know, I was looking at a book at the gardener's stall where all of her flowers were. She wrote one, and I thought it was interesting."

Enguina's eyebrows shot higher. "You thought it was interesting? Since when have you been interested in flowers?"

"Do you _always_ have to tease me?" Erumar said witheringly.

" _Yes_. We are like sisters; you can get nothing past me." She smiled. "Can you not just…admit what was really—"

"Yes! I stopped to look at the book because I was thinking of Thranduil!" she cried, throwing a hand in the air, luckily the one without all of the beads. "Happy now?"

"I am satisfied," Enguina replied, a total smirk on her face. Arwen reached down and touched Erumar's shoulder.

" _I_ am happy. Have you made a decision yet? Are you to away to Eryn Lasgalen?"

Erumar glanced up at Enguina who had busied herself stringing beads, pretending not to pay attention. She rolled her eyes. "Has Aragorn said anything more about the Northern border?"

"Not…recently. The Easterlings have definitely gathered, but they are waiting on word of the orcs. Still, that only provides traveling companions, not a decision."

Erumar sighed. "I have…mostly made my decision."

"I am glad to hear it," Arwen replied, squeezing her shoulder.

There was silence in the room for a few moments and Enguina groaned. "Oh, _Arwen_! How can you just leave it there like that?" She stared at Erumar, leaning forward. "What have you decided? Are you going? Are you going to stay here? What was your decision?"

"It is almost made, not completely."

"Ugh…you are just being difficult."

"Yes," Erumar replied simply. "I live to keep you in suspense." She strung a few more beads, curled the wire end to keep them on, and then began twisting the long wire around to form the turtle. Arwen watched her skillful hands and smiled.

" _You_ have a hidden talent," she said softly, and Enguina looked up to watch her as well.

"As do you, Evenstar," Erumar said, smiling. "Well, you have more than one."

"Sewing is not a much _hidden_ talent," Enguina said. "We know she can do that very well. What is the other one?"

"Carving," Erumar said, and Arwen blushed. "She has always been good at it, but I do not know when you last carved something."

"Oh…probably a few hundred years or so," she said a bit flippantly. "Who is counting?"

"Oh, could you carve something for the baby? Before I return to Ithilien?" Enguina asked softly. "It could be small! I was just thinking to decorate his room. If you…if you want to."

Arwen shrugged one shoulder, stringing several brown beads. "I could try. It has been quite some time." She began thinking of what she could make that the child might like. Perhaps a toy with wheels…a small animal of some kind…

"That would be so wonderful," Enguina said, smiling at her. "Does Aragorn have a secret talent? Aside from being the best swordsman I have ever seen…and healing…and saving people from foolish choices…"

"Oh, I probably should not tell you that," Arwen teased. "He has begun a gift for the baby, but I do not know if he will finish it before he must journey, if that is what will happen. He has not had much time."

"I am fairly certain that I know," Erumar said. "I do not want to spoil it if you do not—"

"No, no," Arwen said, "that is fine. Go ahead."

"Aragorn is an artist," Erumar said. "I remember years ago in Lórien, he drew some of the most beautiful pictures of you."

Arwen smiled. "And many other things, but yes, that is his talent."

"So he is quite good?"

"Well, you have seen the results of some of his drawings," Arwen said. "The statues around the City here and in Helm's Deep were carved from his drawings of what they should look like."

She thought about how beautiful, how perfect her brother's face was. "What is he drawing for the baby?"

"I think he may write him a story," she said.

Enguina stared at her. "I am in awe at the things that you are all going to give my child. You are all too wonderful and good. Legolas and I have been blessed with such kind friends. Thank you, both of you, for your gifts, even if you have not finished them yet!"

Erumar held up her turtle. "Well, what do you think?" They both exclaimed over it and her craftsmanship, and she blushed and set it aside. Picking up another string of wire, she began stringing it with little blue beads. "So what are your plans this afternoon, Arwen?" Erumar asked. "Are you staying here with us and then having dinner here? Are we headed to the King's House?"

"I think I might like to stay here today, if you both do not mind," Enguina said. "It is nice to stay in for a change."

"Actually, I do have one errand to run in the City. I promised my little friend, Paden, that I would visit her and her family and I still did not get there. I would like to go today."

"You are very sore today," Enguina said, her voice worried. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"

"I…will be all right." Arwen frowned and said softly, "I _should_ feel it. If I have to live with it, then I will."

"You _are_ feeling it," Enguina replied. "Is that not punishment enough? _Rest_ , Arwen, you—"

"It was not a good evening last night either," Erumar added. "Not if you fell asleep on the back porch. You went there because you could not sleep."

"I will be fine," she disagreed. "Do not worry. I will go slowly down and slowly back." _And ignore everything in between_. "I will go after lunch, if that would please you; it will give my back more time."

"I had better brew you more tea then," Enguina said, putting down her beads and rising to go to the kitchen. "Perhaps a hot, moist towel will help as well."

"I agree," Erumar said, looking at Arwen as she looked away. She reached up and covered her hand with hers. "Arwen," she said softly, "I have never lost a child, but I…understand grief. I am praying for you as you have been praying for me. But…do not give up hope; do not look at the eyes of those around you, or hear their words. They do not know you; they cannot understand our race, how deeply we feel things, how difficult some things are for us. They do not understand; do not listen to them."

Arwen looked down into her earnest face and she covered her hand. "I will try, Erumar," she whispered. "I know you understand, and I…thank you. I…will be all right."

"Of course," she replied. "But it…takes time." Arwen nodded, knowing very well that Erumar was speaking of their grieving hearts coming to terms with their loss. If Arwen had been in Erumar's position, however, she knew right where she would be now— _dead_. "Ilúvatar will be faithful, yes?"

"I want to answer yes to that," she whispered, and Erumar's eyes held the same knowing look. They squeezed one another's hands and went back to stringing beads for the mobile.

* * *

Vändir sat at the table in front of the tavern. It had been some time since he had been here, and there was no particular rhyme or reason to be where he was. In fact, at the moment he was stewing over the many things that he knew were not right and the many things that had been happening in the City since he had been dismissed from the Council. What weighed most heavily on his mind, however, was that _still_ after all this time—four years—the Lady Arwen had not conceived a child. It amazed him that the Princess of Ithilien was with child. There was no doubt in his mind, as he had told the King five years ago, that the Evenstar was barren. The only thing that was going to give Elessar a child was for him to have a mistress, another woman who he could lay with that would be able to bear him a son.

What was the matter with it anyway? All the Kings of old, all the stewards, they had _all_ lain with other women when they wanted, and not only for the purpose of children! What did Elessar think was so special about his wife? So sacred about _himself?_ There was nothing; they were married, and yes, that was a binding covenant, but he was _King_. Certain rules did not apply.

"Well…if it is not the drunk," came a voice off to his left.

He turned his head and snorted. "If it isn't the slanderer," he replied, raising his glass as Gildion came around to the front of his table. "I think it's been a year since last I saw you. Still bad-mouthing the Queen in all the right places?"

"Of course," Gildion replied, taking a seat. "Are you still plotting against the throne?"

"I," Vändir said, laying a hand over his heart, "was trying to _help_ the throne. I confronted Elessar at his celebration. I reminded him that he needed to take action. He didn't take kindly to my words."

Gildion scowled. "Ilúvatar has cursed the two of them," he muttered. "She is only a whore, good enough for one thing alone. She can please her husband, most of those elves can, but she cannot give him what he needs. I have no doubt he has been doing her plenty, and it has come to nothing."

Vändir nodded, downing more of his pint. "That's why he needs a mistress."

"And then, to have the Princess of Ithilien jig in here and show off her six-month condition. Disgusting," Gildion complained. " _Gondor_ needs an heir."

"Precisely," Vändir agreed. "It infuriates me when I see her. If Elessar's Queen can't be with child, none of these other women should be. A plague on her." He spat the last words.

"She should leave," Gildion stated and then he nodded towards the street. "Look who it is, Vändir…"

Vändir looked over in that direction and his eyes settled on Arwen, moving slowly up the street. There were barely any other citizens about, and Vändir was already drunk. "I think I've got something I'd like to say to her." He downed the rest of his tankard and stood, tossing some coin on the table.

"Mind if I join you? I have a few things I would like to say myself."

Somewhere on the sixth level as she was making her way back to the guesthouse, just about even with the door of the stable, the two men caught up with her. Completely unexpected, she did not even take notice of Vändir until he cut in front of her, bringing her forward movement to a halt.

"Evenstar," he said snidely, bowing his head to her. She stared at the top of his head in surprise, and that hesitation caused him to jump in. "It's been too long. I chatted briefly with your husband on your anniversary. Congratulations, by the by. How has your marriage bed been these past few years?"

The liquor on his breath was enough to turn her stomach, but she held her reaction in and her lips pressed together firmly as she looked at him. She tried to side-step him but felt hands physically push her back into place. Her eyes darted to Gildion in spite of the pain that shot down her back, and she immediately felt fenced-in, tied down, hemmed in.

"Do not leave in such a hurry," Gildion said, his grip on her arm rough. "Vändir was not finished talking with you. Calm down and hear what he has to say."

"Unhand me," she stated, glaring at him. "I have to hear nothing either of you wish to say."

"Bitch," muttered Vändir. "I was a councilman once, I deserve more respect."

"You will get none here," she shot back, looking for the guards that were normally near the stable. "Neither one of you; not with your language and tone. Now, _unhand_ _me_ I said, before I call for the guards." She said the last through gritted teeth.

"Someone needs to teach you a lesson on how to speak to a man," Gildion said, but he still held her wrist. "Do you speak to your husband that way?"

"You have no business—"

"What was that you asked her, Vändir?" She glared at Gildion, as Vändir replied.

"I was asking her how their marriage bed's been," he repeated with a sneer. "Elessar been laying you down often enough?"

"Let me see," Gildion said darkly, and he reached over and pressed against her abdomen. "Nothing here—"

She viciously yanked away from him, ignoring the roaring pain in her back, her lower body still sensitive. "How _dare_ you touch me!" she choked out, trying to breathe evenly in spite of the pain. She was unafraid. "You have no _right_ —"

Gildion was the physical one; he took a step toward her, his bulk driving her a step back against the side of the stable even though they were the same height. "We are concerned citizens," he snapped at her. "We have every right, you _whore_."

"Came to give you a bit of advice, in fact," Vändir said, leaning on an arm that rested against the side of the barn. He was very close to her as well, invading her space. "Your husband needs a child."

"Get—"

"Elessar needs a child," Vändir repeated, " _and you know it_. It has been too long."

"Get away from me," Arwen threatened, but she was blocked in by them. She could not dart between them or run away; especially not past Gildion. Where were those guards?

"We will," Gildion stated, "when we have said what needs to be said."

 _Ilúvatar, get me out of here! Get me out! Make it stop! Give me a way out! Quickly!_

"Years ago, before you conceived that child you've lost," Vändir said, and she felt her heart plummeting, "I told your husband that he needed to take a mistress in order to have a child. Nearly five years later and here we are! You've lost the baby, the one chance Gondor had for an heir, and now you're barren."

"You have a foul mouth," Arwen stated. "You have no idea—"

"We admit the truth, _harlot_ ," Gildion snapped at her. "You cannot give him an heir, so perhaps you should think about the choices you can make. There is quite an easy one."

" _Let_ your husband take a mistress, as we tried to get him to do," Vändir growled. "In fact, _encourage_ him. The faster he does it, the less chance it will take long. You can go back to as much bedding him as the two of you want."

'You _are_ barren," Gildion stated. "As I said four years ago, whore, you are a _stain_ on the house of Elendil. That child who is lying dead in the Silent Street—"

"Do not!" she suddenly cried, lifting her hand to her ear and turning her face away. "Do not speak—"

"He could've been here, alive!" snapped Vändir. "But it's too late now; you'll never give him a damn thing. You should find someone who can—get someone of your own choosing, before he's got to take it on himself."

"It will be difficult for him, since he has gotten used to bedding you for so long," Gildion sneered. "You little whore; looks like he has been enjoying you, too. If he hadn't left on such a mercy mission, looking for that lady friend of yours, your son would still be—"

Tears sprang to her eyes. "You will _not_ slander my husband, the King! You will be in the stocks before you leave the gate!"

"Only if they catch us," Vändir said.

"Or if you tell a guard what was said," Gildion said. "And you are not going to do that, because you do not want anyone else opening your wounds. The trouble is: you know it is true. If you were to admit all of it, you would see that the most logical choice is a bedmate for Elessar, for the sole purpose of a child."

She _had_ to get away from these men! It was difficult for her to breathe; she was so enclosed she found herself trying to turn away in desperation. Suddenly, Vändir shifted and she saw a half-moment opening between the two men and took it immediately, slipping between their arms and out on the street. They turned, but neither one of them grabbed for her. She did not stop, blindly walking away, but could hear them calling after her.

"Give your husband his freedom!"

"You can't give him what he needs!"

"You are barren and the child you had is dead! Set the King free!"

There may have been a moment when she was focused on where she was walking, how quickly she was moving, what she was doing at all, but this was not it. Their words raged in her ears; heartbreak was all that she felt. She tried to draw up Erumar's words from this morning about not listening, Enguina's encouragement, but it struck her to the very core of her existence—her guilt, the question of being barren, the real possibility that she would never give Aragorn a son and that to do what was right for him meant to sacrifice their love for the good of the kingdom. Oh, if she were to give up Aragorn, to share him with another like that, she would surely die! She struggled to breathe, nearly choking on the horror of it all. She did not know where she was going, blindly moving along in agony. How could there be no one on the streets here? Where _was_ she? A door opened before her and she moved through it; words were spoken, she could not respond.

And then she could not care, desperation to be alone flooding her. The shame of their slanderous words, his _hands_ on her! She stumbled on, a long, long walkway; she could not see, her eyes so flooded with hopeless tears. She nearly walked right into it before she had to stop, nearly falling over her own feet. She blinked and saw what was before her.

It had been four years.

Arwen fell to her knees. So suddenly she wept that one hand reached out to catch the edge of the tomb, the other clutching her chest as though it were coming apart. Great sobs came out of her as her whole body shook with the force of her grief and she began rocking, her thumb rubbing roughly over and over again on the tengwar runes.

 _Our Son…_

* * *

Enguina and Erumar had left the house together, dinner sitting over the fire pit. It was the supper hour, and it was clear that Arwen was nowhere to be found. Having no reason to think that she would not have come home, Enguina twisted her fingers back and forth against one another. They were terribly worried, and they had a feeling that everything was not right as it should be. She was not simply late.

Erumar noticed Lifas standing near the entrance to the Seventh Level court and she took Enguina's arm, towing her in that direction first. They had already checked the King's House, the gardens, and Ecthelion, to no avail. They needed to find out who had seen her last.

"Guardsman," Erumar said, as they drew near for she did not know his name, "have you seen the Lady Arwen? We have been expecting her for some time and she has not appeared."

Lifas looked at them closely. "Forgive me, my Ladies, but I have not seen the Queen since the lunch hour, many hours past. She greeted me when she went towards the sixth level. I did overhear that she was traveling to see the Lady Sera and her family, on the fourth level."

'You have been at this post all day?" Erumar asked. "She has not come by?"

"I would not miss the Queen," Lifas said. "She has not yet returned."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Enguina and Erumar took to the sixth level and began in the stables. When that proved fruitless, they came out and began searching for signs of her or others who had seen her. This was exceptionally useless here; no one had seen her since earlier in the day. Frustrated, they began to head towards the fifth level when they suddenly heard a voice calling them.

Enguina turned first, and seeing a man at a nearby door, caught Erumar's arm and went back to him. He was a guard, but he had armor they had never seen before and did not know the significance of. There were engravings on them neither one of them understood, but that could not be their focus at the moment.

"Lady Enguina," said the guard, "I heard you asking about the Queen."

"Yes," she replied urgently. "We have been looking for her and have been very worried. Can you tell us where she is?"

"I can," he said kindly. "A little over an hour ago, the Lady came this way and passed down Rath Dínen." He indicated the door behind him. "She has not come out yet."

Both Erumar and Enguina stared at the large wooden doors. "The Silent Street?" Erumar said, confused. "I do not—"

"It is the Houses of the Dead," Enguina said softly to her, and the guard bowed his head. Enguina had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, and looking at Erumar, she knew that she was feeling very similar. She stepped forward as she said, "We need to go and—"

"Forgive me, Lady Enguina," he said, standing directly in her path. "It is not permitted."

She stared at him. "What? What is not permitted?"

"I am unable to open _Fen Hollen_ for anyone but the Lord and Lady of the City. I am sorry," he said. "The doors remain closed for everyone else unless there is a funeral in progress."

"But the Queen is down there!"

"She is permitted, my Lady," he replied, looking genuinely sorry, "but I cannot open the door for you."

"You _must_ ," Enguina said. "Do you not think she has been down there a bit too long for a visit? You cannot tell me that she has _ever_ been down there so long. She was not _supposed_ to be there; she was supposed to be with us!"

"She came this way, my Lady," he said. "She would have walked into the doors had I not opened them for her. And the Lady Evenstar has not been to the tombs in four years; on that day, she was with my Lord, and they were there nearly all day." He shook his head. "It would not be strange for her to be there one hour."

"Was she upset?" Enguina asked. "Did she seem distraught?"

"Forgive me, I did not—"

"How could you be so unobservant!" she cried, exasperated. "Was she in tears?"

"I did not—"

"Quiet," Erumar said suddenly, and a hush fell over them. "Listen closely." Enguina assumed the guard would hear nothing, but she listened very carefully, her ears straining for what Erumar thought she heard. Then, she heard it as well—the sound of weeping and crying out.

" _Arwen_ ," Enguina whispered, and then she immediately walked forward. The guard stretched out his hand to block her. "You _must_ let us pass! She is in pain!"

"I _cannot_ , my Lady," he said. "It is my sworn duty to defend _Fen Hollen_. I would be cast out from the guard if I—"

"This is the Queen of the Citadel," Erumar said, as urgently as Enguina had. "She is in danger."

"From who, Lady Erumar?" he asked. "No one has—"

"From _herself_!" cried Enguina. "You cannot understand; you are not an elf! This grief that she feels is all consuming, you must let us pass! _You must open the door_!"

"I cannot," he replied calmly, even in the face of her eyes filling with tears.

"Can you not understand that she needs aid?" Erumar said, staring at him. "You are charged with defense of the Lady first; if there were an attack, would you still be guarding this door?"

"Yes," he stated firmly. "This is my duty." Enguina tried to come forward again and this time as he blocked her he forced her to back up. "If the King were here to allow you admittance, I would—"

"If the King were here," Enguina began snarling, "we would not _be_ here! He would already know she was in danger! _Please_! Have mercy on her and let us pass!"

"I cannot," he replied again in the same voice. "I am sorry."

Enguina's heart tightened in anguish; how could they get inside? Erumar shook her head at him. "Guardsman, you have a loyal heart, but you are making a very foolish decision. The Lady is in pain within those walls. If you do not let us pass, there is no telling what may happen."

He sighed again, shaking his head. "I am sorry, my L—here!" Enguina tried to bolt forward and off to the left to get around his reach. He caught her around the middle just as she drew alongside him, preventing her from going any closer. Even being with child, he had to stop her. "You _cannot_ go—!"

While the guard had his hands full with Enguina, Erumar darted around the other side of him and flung wide the door. She heard him yell as he swung his spear, the very edge of it catching her shoulder as she hurtled down Rath Dínen, the bridge of the silent street leading to the tombs in the mountain. She ran faster than she had ever run before; there was no chance he could have ever caught her, not even had he not had an arm around Enguina. She ignored the little slice in her shoulder, but she did give the man credit—he had been serious about his duty and could not be blamed that he had not tried to stop them. The words that were floating up to her became clearer as she was running, Elvish words, gasped out in between high-pitched moaning and weeping.

 _Eru chebi chênion nîn cebiel_

 _Chênion nîn cela! Chênion nîn gurtha!_

 _U-gala anor a gurtha elda_

 _Chênion esta oio!_

Erumar's heart broke; Arwen needed them _now_. She hurried around the corner and nearly ran headlong into the small tomb and nearly fell over her friend who was kneeling in front of it.

" _Ilúvatar, Arwen…_ "

Arwen could not hear her over the weeping that she was doing and the words she kept muttering under her breath, over and over. Erumar knelt down beside her, reaching out and gripping her shoulders, trying to pull her back from the stone she was clutching, her forehead pressed to the top. She could not free Arwen's hands from it, and when she looked she saw there was blood dripping onto the ground and the granite. Arwen had rubbed her fingers raw on the sharp stone where the runes had been engraved, and Erumar could not have seen the damage before when she had been sitting forward. She could not get Arwen to let go.

"Arwen, you _must_ let him go," she whispered, tears filling her own eyes. "I have to get you out of here; please…you have hurt yourself." She could hear Erumar, but she could process none of what she was saying; the grief was too deep. Her muttered words continued without ceasing. Erumar reached over and tried to pry her hands from the stone, but she could hardly do that and hold her at the same time.

"My Lady!"

"I tried to tell you!"

Those were the words of the guard and Enguina as they, too, hurried around the corner. Erumar turned to look at them, tears on her face. "Do not come any closer, Enguina! She has hurt herself and I cannot get her to let go!" she cried.

"Eru, look at her _hands_ ," the guardsman said and Enguina knelt down beside Erumar.

"Enguina—"

"I am not going to look," she said, wrapping her arms around Arwen and drawing her back.

" _Chênion esta oio,_ " came Arwen's muttered words through her many tears, and Enguina forced herself to look directly at Erumar.

"Free her hands," she said. Erumar released Arwen's body and reached up, pulling her fingers free one at a time.

"She is so _strong_ ," Erumar cried, brushing tears from her own cheeks. Finally, she pulled the first one loose as the guard began to do the same with her other. Enguina turned Arwen into her chest and laid her head against her neck as soon as her hands were free.

"Press her hands against my dress," she said, staring at the top of Arwen's head. "That will help stop the bleeding until we can get her to the House."

"Enguina, I do not think—"

"Do it," she said, even though the smell of it was turning her stomach. Erumar did as she was told; Arwen never once tried to move away or tried to pull back. She simply lay against Enguina and wept into her neck, her hands now tucked between the folds of Enguina's dress. "Now run and get the Captain to carry her to the King's House. This guard cannot leave his post to take her."

" _Eru chebi chênion nîn cebiel…_ "

Erumar flew to her feet and bolted back up the bridge towards the sixth level. The guard stood nearby, but he said not a word as Enguina rocked Arwen gently in her arms, trying to soothe her.

"Shhh," she whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Oh, I know it hurts…I know…" She was not going to tell her everything would be all right; perhaps if Aragorn were here, maybe. But she was not _him_ , and she could not make this better any more than she could wish him at her side. "You should never have come here," she said gently. "You should never have come here on your own. Oh, dearest what were you thinking?"

All she could do was hold her until Erumar returned. Then, perhaps between the two of them, and with someone to carry her, they could figure out what to do next.


	20. Chapter 20

Arwen woke out of an exhausted sleep, breathing ragged from the wretched dream she had been having. Fears stemming from the Silent Street, she had been dreaming of the loss of the child and that had become the _dark-haired woman_ with her hands all over her husband. Because of her exhaustion, she had not woken up, and the dream had been longer—she was so sick to her stomach she wanted to vomit. It was _impossible_ ; Aragorn had sworn to be with her and her alone no matter what. The words of those former councilmen were wrong—Aragorn would never betray her for another, no matter the reason, no matter if he should. That was the problem in their minds; if she ever let him, she would have to kill herself, very simply put. She could never survive knowing that what they had shared he would share with someone else. If he no longer wanted her, she would die.

She had no idea how long she had been asleep on the divan of the House, but it was dark out and the lamps were lit. After being carried by Mennev to the guesthouse and sleeping through the dinner that Erumar and Enguina had made, she had woken to find her head in Enguina's lap. After a conversation full of tears where Arwen did not admit what had _really_ happened with the councilmen, the two of them had comforted her and told her that she should stay with them, at least until Aragorn returned. It was a kind offer, but there was nothing Arwen wanted more in that moment than to be alone. She wanted to return to the House and cry herself to sleep again, exhausted and in pain. She did not tell them about the pain. First, in her hands. When she curled her hands it felt as though she was stabbing tiny needles into them. Then, in her back. Whenever she moved, it caught terribly. She had abused it both by jarring and by the hours she had spent in one position for far too long.

So she had returned to the House; they had walked her of course, and could barely be convinced to leave. They were worried about her, and she supposed that if it had been the other way around, she would not have left her alone either, afraid of what she might do. But her friends did not understand. If she had been in her right mind today after running from Vändir and Gildion, she would _never_ have gone to Rath Dínen; she would never have been so foolish! She would _never_ go there now; even if she were alive a hundred years from now she did not think she could look upon that place with anything but utter, blinding grief.

But they had gone, and she had obviously slept what little she could. The words, the things that had been haunting her since she left the presence of Vändir and Gildion, were still with her. Was that the only choice she had left? She sat up, fighting the relentless wave of nausea that washed over her, clinging from the dream, and the pain that fired up her spine from her lower back. She reached a trembling hand down over her empty womb, tears filled her eyes again. Was it her lot now to sacrifice her life for Aragorn to have a son? She could not live without him, and if she could not bear him a son to save their kingdom, then she would have to _let_ him…she would have to _help_ him…she would have to _convince_ him…

" _ **No.**_ " The word came out of her clenched teeth, nearly a snarl of defiance. She would not sacrifice her love of Aragorn; she _could not_ see him with another, much less convince him to be with another! She would die first, before she could let it happen. That left her with one choice.

Dragging herself to her feet, she stumbled into the kitchen, immediately going to the third cupboard and drawing down the bag of herbs she had purchased from the apothecary. _No, no, no…do not do it_. The never-ending warning was going through her head, but she shoved it aside. She could not care what her guilt said now; this was one sacrifice Ilúvatar could not call her to make. She was already ashamed of what she had done; what was one more thing to add to her list of wrongs, of hurt that she had brought on herself and others! This was their last chance; this might be the only way for them, the only way for her to bear him a son!

If this was what she had to do, bear this shame for the rest of her days, sacrifice her honor, her dignity to give him what he deserved, then Ilúvatar help her, she would do it. There was nothing more she could do. Yet, what amazed her was that even as she sat in what she felt was defiance of his will, in her heart she still begged him, pleaded with him, that if he could, would he spare her some mercy to let her rely on him again, to help her to find him and trust him again…instead of trying to do all of it alone.

She set the water on and placed a bit more than the correct dose of herbs into her cup, grinding them up to prepare for the tea. There was nothing more to be thought, nothing more to do than this.

* * *

Aragorn dismounted Brego directly before the stables, the other two men a moment or so behind him. They were laughing and chattering among themselves, but Aragorn had other things on his mind. A _great_ sense of foreboding had come over him, and it had only grown as he was making his way home. His heart was burdened with a weight that he was carrying that was not his own; he had been quiet on the ride across the Pelennor tonight and had been riding with an urgency his guards did not share. He knew what this weight was; he knew what had happened today, felt agony and grief pierce his heart, and yet he could not go…he could not leave until his duty was finished. He cursed heavily in his head. His _duty_.

Arwen had been to _Fen Hollen_ today. There was no denying it. He could barely reach her through her pain; he had tried and was denied. It had happened all at once and though he knew what she had done, he could not understand why she had done it. What in all of heaven could have driven her to The Tombs when she knew that going there would only cause to break her? He remembered their journey only too well, and he would never have wanted to repeat it. It had been four _years_ ; why would she go there now?

His worry was too much of a burden. He turned to Hildanir just as the man was about to lead his palomino into the stable. "Hildanir, a word, please." Haneth continued forward, but Hildanir drew back.

"Of course, Elessar. What do you need?" When he looked into the King's face, he saw anxiety there that he had not noticed before. "What is the matter?"

Aragorn shook his head. "I can hardly explain, but my heart is heavy. Something has happened while we were—"

"My Lady?" he asked immediately, worry crossing his own features.

"I think so," he replied. Brego nudged him from behind. "Hildanir, if you would take care of Brego, I would be greatly indebted to you. I am needed at home almost immediately." He knew…he just _knew_ …something was happening…something was not right.

"You do not need to ask," he said, reaching out and taking the bay's reins. "Go, my Lord."

"Thank you," he said, and without another word he was headed for the passage between the levels, walking quickly.

* * *

It seemed only moments with his long stride before he was standing on the steps before the King's House and opening the front door. He closed the door quietly, ungirded himself and set Andúril on the table.

"Arwen?" he said softly. He knew it was late, but that did not mean she would not know he was here. If he knew her, she would not be sleeping, not after her visit to the Tombs. There was an unfamiliar scent in the air, but he could not place it. Had she been burning something new?

"Arwen," he called a second time.

When he crossed the threshold into the sitting room, his heart somersaulted and dove into his toes. Arwen lay on her side several steps from the divan, her knees pulled up towards her chest, one bandaged hand resting on her stomach. Her other hand, bandaged as well, was wrapped around her throat. Even as he rushed to her side, he could tell she was shaking like a leaf and her skin was flushed, especially along her chest and arms. Kneeling, he noticed that her throat was swollen and her breathing was harsh and inconsistent. Fear coursed through him; he tried to let Ilúvatar take it.

"Arwen!" he called her, trying to get her to respond. She was barely conscious, her eyelids fluttering. He slipped a hand under her neck and tilted her onto her back, making sure her swollen throat remained open, to give her the ability to get a little more air. Her skin was _hot_ , and he took his other hand and pressed it to her forehead; she was feverish. Her breathing had become more pant-like, her chest heaving for breath. "What happened? _Arwen_!"

 _Panic_ , when she did not answer and her breaths began squeaking out of her throat. _Ilúvatar, please! What do I do? Help me be calm!_ Her eyes partially opened in her air-deprived delirium and her lips mouthed his name while he heard it in his head loud and clear.

"Talk to me," he said fervently, and he felt the bandaged hand on her stomach try to grip her own skin as pain crossed her features. She had taken something; this looked like poison to him, and he had a terrifying flashback to her lying in bed, dying after the miscarriage. "Arwen, what did you eat?"

"A…ar…" There were tears in the corners of her eyes, and he knew they were from both pain and fear; he could feel her terror in his mind along with a few disjointed words. _I cannot…bre…bag…third…cupb…_

Her voice in his head was scattered, just as disconnected as she was but there was a brief, flickering picture of the cupboards. He was so anxious, he never realized that she had never communicated something visually before; perhaps it was because her mind was so distraught and had no other choice. If it did not make this connection, she would die. Her eyes closed and her breathing worsened. He reached over and shoved a pillow beneath her neck, keeping her head tilted back to allow for air.

"Do not panic," he said. "Try to breathe deeply and do not move." His words were so much calmer than he felt, terror rushing through him. Aragorn threw himself to his feet. Rushing faster than he could think about what he was doing, he was in the kitchen, trashing through the cupboards until he found a strange bag in the third one— _hidden?_ —in the back. He shoved it under his arm and hurried back into the sitting room. As soon as he reached her, he scooped her up from the floor, her breath squeaking out in pain.

"Arwen, stay with me," he urged her, and there could have been no denying the panic in his voice. He had no time to be gentle, no time to yank on his boots, or think about the state in which he was leaving the House. He thrust the door open and bolted down the stairs, running towards the sixth level and the Houses of Healing. He needed the Healers; in his desperation, he had no idea what he was doing, could not think of _anything_ except her safety, the thought that he might lose her. Her head was hanging back off his arm, but she was really struggling now, chest heaving.

"Do not panic," he said. "Breathe deeply!" She was nearly unconscious in his arms.

There were shouts behind him, but he could not respond, barely understood the words. He only had thoughts for one thing. He was at a dead run now, and her erratic pulse frightened him as he reached out desperately for Ilúvatar. She struggled to draw another breath; it stuck in her throat.

"Arwen!" he shouted, and then he burst through the front archway of the Houses and began yelling. " _Help! Please, help me!_ "

The startled Healers converged on him.

* * *

Aragorn's eyes were fixated on Arwen's face, his chin resting in his hands, as he just sat watching her take breath after breath. She was no longer struggling; for a moment, when he had nearly collapsed before the Healers, he had thought he was going to lose her. He had never been more terrified, more panic-stricken, than he had been almost an hour ago, holding her limp body in his arms while Talf and the other Healers had worked over her. He could hardly think straight, knowing that if he had been moments later…if he had stayed to untack Brego and not given the job to Hildanir, she would have been dead.

Once he had finally begun to calm down, to slow his own heart rate, he realized that he knew exactly what had been happening to her. He had seen it a few times before, though never quite like this. He had treated several men with severe allergic reactions before, but he had never seen it this bad, and never in an elf…and never had he expected it in his own wife. He lifted one of her hands and held it to his lips before pressing it to his face. Her hands…what had she done to her _hands_? Hilta had unwrapped them and was appalled at the way they looked. He had not looked at them with purpose until a few moments ago; it had looked as though she had torn the skin from them by scraping. The wounds were relatively fresh, so he could only assume that she had done it today, probably while down the Silent Street. Cladien had finished rewrapping them only moments ago.

 _Ilúvatar…Father…I almost lost her…I almost lost her…_

The words just repeated themselves over and over in his head. He ached from every corner of his body. He reached up and laid a hand on her sweaty forehead—she was still feverish. Talf had said—

"My Lord," Talf said from behind him, and Aragorn straightened a bit, still keeping her hand in his own, but not pressed to his face. "She is out of danger. You need not worry."

"Her face is hot," he said, and he saw Cladien on the other side of Arwen's bed. She reached down herself with cool cloths, laying one over her throat, and as he moved his hand, one on her forehead as well. "Thank you, Cladien." She bowed her head to him.

"It will help," she said, and Talf waved toward the door.

"Please wait outside child," he said, "I must speak with the King. I will call you if you are needed." She went out, and Talf took her place. Aragorn was not taking his eyes from Arwen at the moment, still watching her breast rise and fall. "This was an extreme reaction, but her body is fighting back. The fever is a good sign, to be honest."

Aragorn nodded. "Thank you, Talf."

"The bag that you brought with you. Do you know what it was?" His voice was soft, and Aragorn found that ominous.

"No…it was what she ate or drank though, yes?"

"Yes. It was an herb for grinding into a powder. She drank it, causing the reaction you saw; it is an herb that is toxic and foreign to an Elvish body. If you had not brought her when you did…I should think that she would not be with us right now. You always seem to return at the moment when most hoped for, but least expected. Thank the One."

'What was it?" Aragorn asked, and he did lift his head to look at him. "What was in the sack?"

Talf appeared to hesitate and then frowned. " _Vitex agnus-castus_ …in the common tongue—"

"I…know what it is," he said, his mouth stumbling on the words. _Monk's Pepper…Elbereth, Arwen, what were you doing with that? What caused you to…why would you not tell me? Why would you not speak to me first?_

"It is not something that she would ever have taken before," Talf said softly, knowing that the news had stunned the King. "Thank the One she did not take more."

"I doubt she would have known its effects," Aragorn said, lowering his eyes. "She would never have had cause to know."

"Her body has been through a tough struggle tonight," Talf said. He hesitated, and then sighed. "I am old, my Lord, and you are experienced in the world. Perhaps it is not my place to say, but it is clear why she was taking the herb."

Aragorn nodded, raising his eyes back to Talf's. "Yes…it is clear. None of this has been easy on her; this burden has laid so heavily on her heart for many years."

"You can be assured of my discretion on this matter, Elessar," he said gently. "This is a sensitive subject, I know; it should be between you both, but…I know of certain incidents that happened before and I…should like to protect her, and you, from such things again."

"I think that these things that you are referring to are already happening, have been happening, for some time," Aragorn said. "That is what brought us here tonight." _And our keeping secrets from one another. Oh, Ilúvatar, forgive me! Never again!_ Aragorn looked back down into her face, stroking her cheek with his fingers. He closed his eyes and then looked up at Talf, his face full of pain. "Master Healer," he murmured, "is…is it possible, that the reason we have not conceived a child…is it possible that I could be to blame? Is there _any_ way possible that I am the reason?" He _wanted_ it to be him, if only to give relief to her troubled heart, if only to remove some of the guilt that she carried.

Talf sighed. "Elessar, you are not young, but for your people you are in the prime of your life. You are a strong, healthy, athletic man. It would be highly unlikely for you to be the cause of any such difficulties. No," he added gently, "it is more likely that, if anything, the Lady Arwen has somehow been troubled by the miscarriage." Before Aragorn could even speak to leap down his throat, Talf continued. "It is also obvious that she is an elf, and therefore, as an elf she was bound to have more difficulty conceiving than a mortal woman. Everything I have ever read about their race indicates this to be so."

"That is true," Aragorn said softly.

"I know that I do not have as much experience treating Elvish maladies as you do, since you grew up among the elves," he continued, "however, as you are asking I must speak my mind. I do not think she is having difficulty conceiving simply because she is an elf. The miscarriage of the child and the poisoning…there is a possibility she might truly be barren. I know it angers you, but you must accept this possibility."

"I will not," he stated firmly. "You are a good man, Talf, a man of medicine and healing; but Ilúvatar is above all bounds that our natural world applies. Therefore will I trust him. Impossible or no, I will trust him alone."

Talf was quiet for a moment. He was unsure what he should say and he clearly looked uncomfortable. "My Lord, if you are standing firm upon this matter, you should at the very least relieve your wife from the burden of bearing you a child. The amount of stress that has been placed upon her—"

"Was never by me!" Aragorn cried, his eyes filled with horror. "Talf, I have never in my _life_ , in all our years of marriage, asked Arwen to give me a child. I would _never_ ask her for something that she cannot control! She is not the one who needs to give us a child."

"She is part of it, Elessar."

"No," he disagreed, "she is the vessel. The child will come through her, as we are one, but the child is given by Ilúvatar. When it is his time, and in his will, we will conceive."

Talf hesitated. "That time may be beyond the count of years you have left, my Lord."

Aragorn leaned forward slightly, his gaze hard. "Then so be it," he said, voice low and firm. It pained his heart to say the words; he knew it would hurt terribly for them to be true, for himself but especially for Arwen. "If it is not in Ilúvatar's will, then we will have no children."

"You need a son, my Lord. The House of Telcontar will end," Talf added.

"I need nothing but her," he said, his hand gripping hers. "I would never betray her heart. _Never_. It does not matter what or who it would be for, I would not do it." He stared hard at Talf. "Not even for Gondor."

"My Lord," he said softly, "you need to think—"

"You are dismissed, Master Healer," he said, but his voice was not cruel or hard. He returned his eyes to Arwen's face. "I wish to be alone with my wife."

The old Healer sighed, but bowed at the waist. "Cladien will be nearby if you need anything." He turned and was gone.

None of these people understood; _not one of them!_ He had waited nearly his entire _life_ to be wed to her; why would he ever betray that vow for anything? They must all be mad! _Mad!_

 _How_ could this have happened? How had they grown so far apart that they were hiding and keeping secrets from one another? He thought of everything that he had neglected to tell her that had happened, especially his words with Nardur that had come to blows yesterday morning. He could hardy bear to think it, but had Nardur approached _her_ as well? Had he told her that he thought her barren; had he said something that would have caused her to take action like this? He would _kill_ the man.

 _Why…why_ would she not _talk_ to him before taking this herb? Why would she not tell him what she had been planning to do? Could it be possible that she had made the decision to take it within the last day and that she had not been _planning_ to do so? Was she so afraid that she could not talk with him? Was she afraid of what he might say; that he might look down upon her for wanting to take action and see if she could solve what she thought to be her problem on her own? _How_ could he discuss this with her? She had nearly killed herself in her desire to increase the possibility of having a child. Was _this_ the grief he had felt from her, that had been weighing on her heart these past nights, causing her nightmares? And how could he have ignored something that was so _obviously_ serious for _so long_?

He pressed his forehead to the back of her hand, groaning aloud. What a foolish question! They had avoided the conversation because she was afraid and so was he. No matter how much they both individually wanted a child, they did not want to discuss it; her because it hurt so much, him because he did not wish to bring her any more pain. But it would explain so many things: the nightmares, the grief…even the supposed love-making they had two days before. He wondered vaguely, if she was yet in pain. He hoped not; he had not felt that from her today or yesterday…only her great grief.

He thought of Talf's words and his own pain at them; Talf had said that he needed to release Arwen from the burden of bearing him a child. He was still unsure what the man had meant. Did he mean that he needed to tell her that he was unconcerned about it? Or was it that he needed to tell her that he was going to find someone else to bear him a child? Both were untrue. He _was_ concerned about having a child, but that was not Arwen's burden to bear, and he had _never_ made it so. No, it was Ilúvatar's burden to give them a child…in his time. _That,_ as of yet, had been the most difficult burden to bear. _Time_. He thought of his words to Talf, how the man had encouraged him that an heir was necessary, just as all the others had. Lifting his head, his eyes closed, his pressed his lips to her fingers, again and again.

 _Father, I cry out to you! Every one of these people would have me be as a King or Steward of old; I do not want to_ _ **be**_ _them! I want to rise above that legacy; I desire to be faithful, not faithless. I do not want to forsake my wife; I want to have faith in you. I will_ _ **not**_ _fall away. I will not fall away; I will be faithful! No matter what comes, I will trust and believe. Even though this road is long and difficult, I will trust you, and I will praise you. If I stood before, when my life was so uncertain, why fall away now? When in my indecision I faltered, yet I remained steadfast, though unsure and lost in the many struggles, dangers, and despairs my life once held. Here, my life is steady; though stressful, there are no perils, yet I am still tested. Will I fall away now? Will I lose my trust in you? No! How could I falter now? Then, when the road was so dark and the shadows followed me, she had such hope in me. She told me I would conquer the evil, defeat it. Can I not be her hope now? Can I not encourage her that will we face this darkness, this shadow…and eventually overcome it? Can you not make me to her now, what she was to me then? I can stand now…with you at my side. I_ _ **will**_ _stand now…and I will not be afraid. You are the shield at my right hand; I cannot be shaken._

He sighed, pressed his lips to her fingers, and then reached a hand up to check her temperature again. When he did, his eyes met hers; they were full of exhaustion, even pain, but she was conscious. He stood and took the place of their hands on the bed beside her, leaving her hand and his in his lap. The other he laid on her face, wiping the sweat from her brow and her temples. He did not speak at first and just held her hand, taking his thumb beneath her eyes as she closed them at his touch. _Father…give me the strength to have this talk with her. Give me the words to speak. Help me heal our wounds once and for all; they have festered for far too long. Let me be your hope for her; let me be your peace for her…Sovereign in all things._

"Hello there," he said softly, and her eyes opened. His thumb brushed the corner of her eye; already there was a tear forming there. Her eyes were wet. He raised the same hand to her forehead and turned the cloth over so it would be cool again; she was still warm. "You gave me quite a fright."

She could see the seriousness, the concern in his eyes, even though his words were light. " _God…forgive me…_ " Her voice was rough from the swelling of her throat, from her breath burning in it. It _hurt_ , but not as much as her back at the moment.

"You are still feverish," he said gently. "Talf did not think you would wake for several hours. Are you thirsty?"

She shook her head, unable to take her eyes from his. "I…my back," she whispered. "I need to lie on my side."

She _was_ still in pain then; his heart hurt. Carefully, he helped her turn onto her side; each time her breath caught from the pain it scared the life out of him. He soaked the cloth again and set it on her forehead, tucking her hair back behind her ear in a move so familiar that her lips trembled.

 _Beloved…talk to me._

 _I…am…afraid._ A huge lump formed in her throat and she could hardly breathe. She had brought this on herself. How could she be honest about everything that had happened, everything she was feeling? Would she have to be honest in order for them to survive this? She had never felt so _alone_ ; she was frightened of what might happen, what he would think of her—she should have never acted without him. He was her husband; if she had submitted to him in the beginning, to what she had known he would have said, she would _not_ be in this place, feeling so… _so…broken._ And perhaps _that_ was the point. Perhaps all of this had been to break her; to bring her to the moment where there was nothing else to rely on than Ilúvatar himself, a place where there was nothing that could be hidden and she was completely exposed. Ilúvatar had let her fail in every way; she had nothing left but him. Even though she felt alone and afraid…for the first time she realized that she was not.

 _I am not angry with you._ He could feel her turmoil; grief, agony, fear, shame; all at war for first place in her head and heart. But they needed to talk, more than anything. His physical caress made her flinch; she was _so_ afraid. "How do you feel?" he asked her gently. He had meant physically, but whatever her answer, he would take it and try to move forward.

She hesitated; she _wanted_ to tell him, _needed_ to tell him, desperately. "I feel…" she began, her voice hoarse from the pressure behind it. "I feel _awful_." It was whispered as her eyes closed, and it carried every pound of her pain with it. _Ilúvatar, save me! Oh, help me Father! Forgive me!_

Clearly, she was exhausted and in pain, but he was not about to call for Cladien to bring her tea for relief and let her sleep when they needed to reconcile first. His desire for them to speak the truth to one another could not wait; there was such tension between them that he thought they might explode. The trouble was that he did not know what to say next. It did not make much difference.

Her eyes flooded with tears as she met his gaze, and she felt his thumb brush beneath her eye again, wiping them away before they began to fall. "I feel as though there is a terrible weight on my chest," she said, and as she swallowed hard his hand tightened in hers. "I cannot continue to conceal everything I have from you. If I wait any longer… _I will drown in the agony of it_."

"I know about the herb," he said gently, thinking that at the moment, it was the only place to begin. "I know what you meant for it to do."

She had been on the edge of tears since she had looked into his face; at those words, she lost the rest of her composure completely. Crying openly, he felt her despair pour through him and he reached for her, gathering her up into his arms carefully and bringing her into his chest where she buried her face into his neck. Her fever, her physical pain, gave way to the comfort he was providing; he could not let her lie there and sob, her chest heaving. He waited, holding her tight until she could find the will to speak. He knew she would if he could be patient; she had to now.

" _I wanted to bear you a son!_ " she gasped brokenly, tears rushing down into his tunic, and he felt her heart stutter for a few beats as her carefully built walls came crashing down, shattering what was left of the protection for her heart. Her whole body shook against him and he staggered beneath the weight of her burden. "I wanted to give you what you deserve; I wanted to give you the child that the people expect from me, that they want for you. I wanted to bear you a son!

 _"_ I could see their eyes! The people look upon me and they have been wondering, and then they saw _Enguina_ , and that _she_ was with child…" Her voice stuttered to a stop, but finally, unable to control that pain anymore and able to share it openly with him when he already knew the depth of what she had been feeling, she staggered into the rest of it, chest heaving as she sobbed. "They _expected_ it to be me, _us_. I had _no idea_ that what I was feeling was _jealousy!_ I could hardly look at her without thinking what they were thinking, without wishing, without _praying_ in desperation, without _asking Ilúvatar whywhywhy and I pleaded and begged him and waited for an answer and there was_ _ **nothing!**_ _"_

She broke down again, unable to continue, and the depth of what had been happening in her heart struck him. Why had he never made the connection with the increased words of the people and Enguina's pregnancy? Why had he been so foolish as to not make the connection between Arwen's increased nightmares, her pain, her agony, and that Enguina was with child? Oh, he had _intensely_ failed her!

"Ilúvatar had to break me," she choked out. "I have been trying to do this _alone_ when I should have gone to him, come to you and been faithful. I should have _waited_ for his time and been _honest_ but I have been _so_ afraid—"

"Not only you," he whispered, his heart breaking with hers. "I have not been honest with you either. I have been hiding things as you have, words…deeds…I did not want them to hurt you. Oh, what a fool I have been. Forgive me for not seeing you as I should have. Forgive me for not being honest with you from the start!"

" _I should have_ _ **told**_ _you!_ " she wept and felt his arms tighten around her. "I should have prayed with you, but I was _afraid_ of what you would think of me! I _hurt_ … _I have been hurting for so long._ _I thought I could do it;_ I went to the library, I read things that might help _…I tried them and hurt us both!_ " Guilt and shame poured through their bond as her pain swept over him. " _God, I want more than anything to bear you a son!_ I want you to know the pleasure of being a father; you will be such a good father! You _deserve a child, and you deserve a woman who can give you one_ … _who can give you what you have been longing—"_

Unable to continue, her words broke off; her trembling worsened and her hands tried to hold onto his arms but they could barely grab between pain and weariness.

"Slow down," he said, taken back by her sudden words. "Arwen, beloved, I have only ever desired you. For the last five and seventy years, there has been a single desire of my heart: to love you as my wife and to share my life with you. I have waited to do this, desired you solely as no man has desired anyone. You are my life, lover of my heart…my very soul." He whispered the words, "The only longing I have is to be with you until the end of my days."

" _You cannot_ _ **say**_ _that!_ " she cried, anguish escaping through her as she tried suddenly to pull back from him. He would not let her, his arms holding fast. " _You_ _ **want**_ _a child! I have seen you, prayed with you!_ "

"I…yes, of course I want children with you," he whispered, his voice as broken as hers. "Beloved, that is true, but children are not the desire of my heart… _you are_. _I need you_ , _and I cannot live without you…and I almost lost you tonight._ If we must wait—"

" _Have we not waited long enough?_ " she groaned, sorrow consuming her as she sobbed into his neck. "Have we not suffered enough? Legolas and Enguina—" She _hated_ herself for mentioning them. "—they are having a child…and we… _and we_ …"

"Sometimes…" he pressed his lips into her hair, " _Ilúvatar asks us to wait…to wait on his time…_ "

"It is too _hard_ …with their eyes and their words pressing down on me!" Arwen cried. "It comes at me from all sides; the weight of our loss, the looks, the words of so many, their pity, their accusations, my barrenness—"

"No," he said, struggling as he tried to regain control, "you are _not_ barren. It was nearly five hundred years before Erumar conceived—"

" _You do not have five hundred years_ ," she moaned, the burden of their mortality dragging down her heart. She lifted her head and looked into his grey eyes that held unshed tears and tried to be strong for her, the eyes she knew better than her own. "All we have is _now_ …these moments…we are not immortal; we will not live forever." She could hardly get the words out, her own agony and the weight in her chest so heavy she could barely breathe. "We do not have any idea how much time we have left, and you need to have a son."

"What I need is _you_ ," he said, pressing his brow against hers.

"Gondor needs you to have an heir," she said, "and you know it. This terrible weight—"

"It is one you are letting _them_ cast upon you," he said firmly. "I have never asked it of you. Damn all of it, Arwen…hang Gondor! If I die with no heir, then I will die with no heir."

"You…" She stuttered over the words, her face a grimace of pain. She could not bear those words, but she could bear the ones coming out of her mouth even less. "You _should_ take someone who can give you—"

"Now, who spoke those words into your mouth?" he said, his voice quiet but not angry. "They are not your own! I would _die_ before I would take someone other than you into my arms. When we pledged ourselves to one another, we swore that we would never share our bodies, our love, with anyone else. _Ever._ "

She swallowed; she could not look into his face. " _You are…you are the King…_ "

"Why should the law be different for a King?" he begged her. "How could I pledge myself to you and take another into my bed, for something that I have trusted to Ilúvatar? It is not _you_ that brings the child, beloved, it is Ilúvatar! We must trust Ilúvatar; we must ask him for this blessing, over and over and over if we must, but we cannot lose faith, we cannot lose trust, we cannot think that trusting to our own strength or the things of this world will bring us the gift, only the Giver! If we cannot trust in Ilúvatar's will in our lives, the one who brought us together, the one that has carried us in every situation, what can we trust? What else is true? Who will be our strength when we have none? No, we are broken to remain steadfast, to be reminded that we have nothing else but his grace and his time. We are here, in this moment, to support one another…we will run no more.

"How quickly you forget my love for you," he whispered brokenly. "I have spoken so many times that I love you more than life, more than anything that could have any power over me…more than the council, my Kingship—"

" _Aragorn_!" she gasped, crying.

"— _Gondor_. I would give all of it away…for you, for your love." He tugged one of her hands to his chest. " _Listen to my heart, feel it. It beats only for you…_ _ **ever**_ _for you, and you alone._ I need you to believe me when I say these words: the only thing that I will ever need in this life is the constancy of your love. Without it, nothing matters… _nothing_. I _am_ because of you; I live because you breathe. I have trusted him, before we ever made our pledge, with your protection and safety; we trusted him with our hearts when we pledged ourselves to one another in his presence in the moonlight on Cerin Amroth, when we prayed, and then once again on our wedding day and nearly every day thereafter. You and I were joined by Ilúvatar…nothing is going to separate us. Do not forget my love for you."

"I forget because this is insurmountable," she told him, pain still coming from her in waves. "I want you to be a father so terribly. I am worried and _frightened_ —"

"Do not be afraid," he said. "You will never be alone, not in this, not ever."

"I want to remember to trust him," she said, her voice breaking as she felt the constancy of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. "I want to believe your words. I want to believe the words that you spoke to me years ago, that you do not need the child, that you can be…that you can be happy without him…" Tears poured down her face again; she could not stop them. "I _want_ to say that and mean it myself, but I…I want you to be a father! _I want it so much!_ "

"Oh my love, I do, too. I love you…I want you, beloved, more than anything else in the world. You _are_ enough," he said. "Tonight, I almost lost you again. Your desire to give me a child has taken every decision you have made and overthrown it so brutally…your heart is so full of agony, it has been difficult for you to see the truth. You have not thought of what you have been doing to yourself these past two weeks. In my desire to protect you, I have been a most untruthful husband, and I have broken trust with you. I have heard the words and been badgered as you have been these past days. It has been a difficult time of stress for us both." He released her back and held her face, rubbing his thumbs gently along her cheeks to wipe her hot tears away. "We must trust one another again and forgive one another, right our wrongs…and to do this…we must make each other three promises. We must begin somewhere…for the healing to start we must begin again. Three promises."

She swallowed hard, trying to speak through her tears. "Three?" She nodded. _Go on._

"First," he said gently, his brow pressed to hers again, "we must pledge to honor one another in love, but also in truth. We must not conceal secrets like these from one another… _ever again_. We must speak and share about the troubles we feel, and we must rely on one another's strength to heal, even if it hurts to speak of it, even when it is difficult, even when we think it protects another, even when we think we must do it alone. We must conceal nothing from one another; nothing can come between us."

"I swear it," she choked out. _I have never felt more grief than when I have not shared a burden with you. I will never do it again._

 _Nor will I. I will never seek to hide something from you that I think will protect you, and I will never be ignorant of your pain. I will never shut you out of my mind…never shut me out of yours._

 _I promise._

"There will be no love-making for any reason other than our desire to love one another," he said, and she trembled in her shame, her face hot beneath his hands. He poured compassion and his own guilt into their bond, caressing her face. "I will never, _ever_ hurt you as I did that night, for any reason. We did not make love that night…we had intercourse…"

" _I am so sorry,_ " she cried softly.

"I am sorry, too…and I will never simply have intercourse with you again. _Ever._ You are the lover of my heart; I will not give myself to you for any other reason, nor you to me. We give ourselves to each other physically because we love one another, because we desire one another…not to bring a child into the world, nor to heed someone else's words about how and when and what we should be doing…but because we love one another. Beloved, I pledge to make love with you, every time. You and you alone."

She cried in her shame, but she nodded. _God…forgive me. I promise I will make love with you because I love you…for no other reason._

"Finally, we must rely on Ilúvatar to guide us and give us the strength and peace to follow this difficult path he has laid for us. We must rely on one another for strength and guidance; if we begin to fall, we must help one another up. We must remind each other that it is Ilúvatar who we hope in, who we trust always. We cannot be shaken; he is at our right hand. We will let him lead and guide us; we will not take matters into our own hands, but trust him to work his will in his time—even if it is the most difficult and awful path we have to walk, even when it may seem hopeless. We will trust him, always and forever. We will build one another up in love and truth. Coming from brokenness, we can be made whole in him."

 _I trust him. I trust you. In your hope, Aragorn…I will hope_.

"I love you," she gasped. "Forgive me."

"I do," he whispered. "And I love you, more than you can comprehend. Please…never frighten me like that again." He thought of her, sprawled on the floor of the House, unable to breathe. "I _beg_ you, Arwen." He had been more terrified than he cared to admit.

"I will never do anything so foolish again." He kissed her forehead even as her tears still fell.

"You have been in such pain, such grief. Let me take some of it," he whispered. "Please tell me you will never go to Rath Dínen alone again." She shook her head, unable to respond, knowing that he had felt her grief. "Good; I could hardly bear it." He ran his hand down to her lower back and felt the tightness. "You have been in pain all this time. You need heat and tea, and your fever needs lowering." He wiped more sweat from her face along with tears, and she slowly lowered her head to his shoulder again, leaning into him with relief from the warmth of his healing hand.

"My Lady is awake?" came Cladien's soft voice from the doorway. Aragorn turned his head and looked over to her.

"Yes, Cladien, but she needs to rest. Can you prepare some tea for her fever and pain?"

"Her hands, my Lord?"

"She injured her back a day or so ago."

"Of course, my Lord." She was gone, and Aragorn laid his head against hers.

"Forgive me," he said gently, "for hurting you as I did the other night. It was wrong."

"I begged you," she replied. "None of that was you; all of the fault was mine."

"And yet, I should not have listened," he refuted. "I knew you were in pain."

"You tried to stop," she said, and he could hear the exhaustion plain in her voice. "I made you continue, to my…everlasting shame. Ilúvatar meant for me to pay for it; I will never do anything like that again."

"You mean beg?" he asked softly, a lilt in his voice. She had no idea how, after their conversation tonight, the tears, the struggle they had been through for the last several weeks, he could be teasing her. But it felt right, and she gave a little smile and blushed.

"No, sometimes you give me no choice but to beg," she whispered, and her eyes closed, feeling the heat from his hand on her lower back. She sighed softly. "Aragorn—"

"You are exhausted and sore, even ill," he whispered. "You have been through enough tonight. You need to rest and heal."

She did not speak again, but he heard her words in his head.

 _The comfort of your arms…that is what I need._ _I need you. As long as I have you…_ She struggled to say the words, even in his head, even though she did mean them. _As long as we have each other, I can survive this…that is the limit of my broken heart._

He knew what she meant. She could face the trials of life if he and Ilúvatar were her rock. When she did not have him, her broken heart would fail. Without him, she would not make it. He tilted his head and pressed his lips to her temple, her hair, and just held her until Cladien's return. It would be through Ilúvatar's time that they would be all right.


	21. Chapter 21

Enguina hurried up the front steps to the Houses of Healing, Erumar calling after her to slow down. She could not of course; she and Erumar had headed to the King's House this morning and been informed by none other than Hildanir that the Queen had been at the Healers since late last evening and that their presence was requested. Enguina had forgotten all about feeling slightly under-the-weather herself and had taken off down the stone street, worried sick. Both of them were, of course, but Enguina was especially worried. Had they not spoken of how they should not have left her alone last night? Oh how she _cursed_ herself!

"Where is she?" Enguina asked the first healer she saw. It happened to be Hilta.

"She is _fine_ , my La—"

" _Where?_ " she asked, concern in every feature of her face. Erumar reached the top step behind her, but just as the woman began to point down the hall, she was off, not waiting one more moment. Behind her, she could hear Erumar apologizing; she did not have time for apologies! Her friend was ill! Her friend was injured! Her friend was—

She took pause at the threshold of the door, studying the quiet sight within. Arwen sat upon the bed, her hands unwrapped, her face pale. She had pillows behind her, supporting her back; Enguina could tell. Part of her hair was braided and then tied back with a ribbon—Aragorn's doing, no doubt. He sat at her side, holding her hands and speaking in a low voice, their heads nearly together, both of them bowed. A breakfast tray sat, untouched, nearby.

She made no movement or noise, but it seemed Aragorn had a sense for those things. He finally turned his head and smiled. "Here they are; we never doubted you, Enguina." Arwen lifted her head as well; her smile was intact, but it was embarrassed. Enguina wanted to blurt out a thousand questions as she stared at them both. Instead, she tried first for some tact.

"I did not want to intrude," she said, but she immediately came near. They had been praying, and she felt awkward walking in on them. "What _happened_? What are you doing here? Were you ill? Did you—"

"I will leave Arwen to tell you what she will," Aragorn said softly. "But she is doing much better now and we are very glad you came. Where is—oh, there she is."

"Forgive me," Erumar said as she entered. "Enguina was running."

"I was _worried!_ "

"We both were," admitted Erumar, looking at Arwen. "I am terribly glad to see you awake and well; that is far more than we had hoped for when we heard." She looked over to Aragorn and smiled. "And you; how was your journey?"

"It was a good break from the Council," he replied. "However, that is where I am off to this morning, and sadly, am already late." His tone was full of regret. "I am the sole report for Rammas Echor; it is my… _duty_ …to attend." Erumar caught the gentle tightening of Arwen's hand in his. "I would prefer to be here," he said more softly, "but I must go."

"Stay for even a few minutes?" asked Enguina, frowning. "We have seen so little of you."

He bowed his head. "I will be back at noon; Arwen will be staying until at least tonight." He smiled. "Enguina, you may take my place as I know you have a desire to do." He stood slowly so the bed did not shift very much, but he leaned down, resting a hand on either side of her, his face close to hers. Erumar averted her eyes, leaving them the private moment, but Enguina studied him, and her. Their eyes locked, their communication all silent, within their heads. Both of their eyes closed, he pressed his lips to her forehead and then her hair as he ran his hand along her head.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, and she mouthed the words in reply, seemingly unable to speak for a moment. He pulled back from her and stepped back from the bed, leaving room for Enguina. As she moved to take his place and Erumar came to sit on the other side of the bed, he laid a hand on her arm.

"Before I take my leave," he said, glancing between the two of them, "I want to thank you, both of you, for finding Arwen in the Tombs yesterday. I heard you had quite a turn with the gate-keeper."

Erumar blushed. "It was just a scratch."

"It was an argument," Enguina said firmly. "He was extremely loyal, but completely impossible. We needed to get to her, so we did what we had to."

"And we are grateful," he assured her. "I simply wanted to thank you for caring for her when I could not be here."

"Of course," Erumar said, taking a seat and setting Arwen's breakfast tray on her lap. She noticed that Arwen's eyes had not yet strayed from Aragorn's face. "We were very glad that we could be of use."

"Thank Ilúvatar for Erumar's swiftness!" Enguina said gratefully.

"Indeed," Aragorn said with a smile. "You were highly praised, and Kithal quite laughed at, in good-humor, of course. Out-foxed by two women and all that."

Erumar looked away. "We never meant to—"

"Of course not," he said. "Still, nothing so exciting has happened on his watch in many years." He nodded toward the tray in Erumar's lap. "If you would be so kind as to convince her that she is hungry this morning, that would be useful. She cannot leave until she eats and it stays down without difficulty. She knows, but…" His hand reached back and stroked Arwen's face from temple to chin as he smiled. "She might need some encouragement."

"You can rely on us, Aragorn," Enguina replied, sitting down beside her finally. "We will be here all day long annoying her."

"One would expect no less," he said with a bit of a grin. "Until lunch then, my Ladies." He moved away from them, looked back once more from the doorway…and then he was gone. Enguina and Erumar's eyes fell upon Arwen then, and she knew that she needed to speak first.

"Good morning to you both," she said, her voice still soft as her throat was still sore. "Thank you for coming to keep me company. I hope Hildanir did not make things sound too urgent."

"We did not listen to him as much as we should have," Erumar admitted. "We barely gave him time enough to finish his first sentence before we left him. He probably thought us quite rude."

"Or concerned," Enguina said. "We could think of nothing else but coming here to be beside you." She reached out, turning one of Arwen's hands over within her own. _Find something safe to talk about before you explode with questions._ "Your hands look better today."

"Yes," Arwen replied as Erumar looked at the other, "the Healers have been at work with a salve they were trying. It works better on skin than on puncture wounds."

Erumar smiled. "Yes, the… _holes_ are still fading. Your back is still—?"

She nodded. "Yesterday did not help at all, and last night I…I fell…but it is a little better than it was. The tea has been helping, and Aragorn has been helping," she added softly. "Yes, it is a little better," she repeated.

Enguina's eyes were on her. "You _fell_? Where? When? Did you leave the House even after we told you not to and you _promised_ us? What—"

"I fell _in_ the House, in the sitting room," she replied, embarrassed. "I did not leave." She knew she could say that she did not want to talk about it, but she was tired of the hiding, whether from Aragorn or them, and being open and laid bare was refreshing for a change. She had told Enguina most of the truth already, and without a doubt Erumar knew as well…so what else was there that she had not spoken of? "I did something so foolish when I woke last night, before Aragorn returned."

"Why did you fall?" Erumar asked. "Were you unsteady?"

"I could not breathe," Arwen answered honestly, though tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, when you hear what… _foolishness_ I committed last night…you will know I am mad."

"Certainly not madder than I," Erumar said gently.

"Arwen, tell us," added Enguina, "and we will not think you a fool. You have been underneath so much stress recently—"

"When I went to the library the other day, I was also researching…several things that I thought might help me bear a child," she whispered, ashamed; she still had been unable to forgive herself. "I had heard rumors about an herb that might…help. Instead of trusting Ilúvatar, instead of clinging and running to my faith in this difficult time, I sought to help myself in my own way." Her eyes closed as she sighed, looking down at the hands that were still healing. "I was, I am, such a fool. I took the herbs with tea and I returned to the divan to lie down.

"I woke; I do not know how much later it was, but I could hardly breathe. There was a terrible weight in my chest, my throat was nearly swollen closed, and my stomach was in so much pain I was doubled over almost from the moment I awoke. I felt as though I was burning up; my ears were on fire. I ignored my back which is the reason I hurt it, but I tried everything before getting up to breathe—taking deep breaths, tilting my head back—nothing worked. I knew something terrible was happening, and when I did go for the door, I fell, half-dazed." She shook her head. "When I hit the floor, it became even more difficult to breathe and I was struck by fear, clutching at my throat. I barely remember what happened after that. Aragorn had to tell me. It was he who found me on the floor when he arrived."

"Thank Ilúvatar!" cried Enguina. "How soon—"

"It felt like forever, and the longer I lay there, the harder it was to breathe," she said. "Aragorn said that if he had been minutes later, I may have been dead." She shook her head. "When he arrived at the stable, he asked Hildanir to look after Brego; thank Ilúvatar he did. I was such a fool."

Enguina's eyes filled with tears, and Erumar squeezed Arwen's hand. "The herb…Monk's Pepper?" Arwen nodded, shame filling her face. "Oh, dearest, how were you to know? You never had any cause to know a thing about it. So long ago that it nearly seems like another life, I once looked into it myself. Do not be so ashamed." If Arwen was surprised, she did not appear so.

"I only wish that I had been able to trust Ilúvatar _before_ such foolishness. I should have trusted him…but it has been _so hard_." She reached up and brushed tears from one of her eyes, then she looked at both of them. "Please…I know that I already have asked so much of both of you, and I have not been myself recently, but please…this struggle is going to be daily," she admitted and her voice grew soft and sad. "There are times when it will be overwhelming…times when it may consume me…times when I cannot let it go. Please understand: I want to be able to say that I will want to be with you both every moment, but there may be moments I wish to be alone. In those moments, will you please continue to pray for me?" She swallowed. "I do not mean to hurt either of you. I—"

"Arwen, we remember this pain," Erumar said. "We know that you have been hurt."

"I was here in the months following your recovery from the miscarriage," Enguina murmured. "I know that the only thing that helped was when Aragorn held you. He was not here last night; that was the reason we did not want to leave you."

"Ilúvatar needed to remind me how sovereign he is," Arwen said. "If I…if I had not been reduced the way I was last night…I may not have been as truthful with Aragorn, with you both, as I needed to be. It was difficult, and I may not be excellent company today. I am not completely well yet; my throat is _so_ sore, I have been running a fever since last night, and I am utterly exhausted."

"And you still have eaten nothing," added Erumar, holding out some cornbread to her. "You need to eat and regain your strength."

Arwen eyed it as she took it, nibbling the edge of it. "So far, nothing has stayed down," she said. "My stomach is still rebelling against food. The tea has been fine, but anything else has made its return." She frowned as Enguina grimaced. "Today may not be pleasant for either of you. You do not need to stay."

"Yes, we do," returned Enguina. "So…you and Aragorn finally spoke?"

Arwen met her eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "It was hard…but it was necessary."

"And everything has been sorted then," Erumar said. "Thank Ilúvatar. We have been so worried for you. We know that you have been afraid of his thoughts, though why you think he would judge you, I do not know. He is the least judgmental person; slow to anger, quick to forgive."

"In my…fear…I forgot his character."

"And his love for you," Enguina stated. "He loves you more than anything."

Arwen smiled and took another bite of the cornbread. "I _do_ know that."

Enguina laid her hand on her belly. "Ugh…I might be lying down with you shortly."

"Oh, it was all that running," Erumar said, rolling her eyes. "You needed to take it easy and instead you were all worked up."

Arwen raised her eyebrows at her. "Please do; what is mine is yours." Enguina immediately made room for herself to curl up on her side, which she did. "You do seem pale today."

"Not half as pale as you," Enguina replied. "I was feeling a bit miserable this morning, but I forgot about what I was feeling in all the running about over you."

"Dizzy? Light-headed?" she asked and Enguina nodded.

"A little."

"You need some water," Erumar advised. "You are probably just thirsty, as you have not had breakfast yet."

"No breakfast?" Arwen asked. "Why did you—"

"Because we were looking for you, silly!" Enguina said. "We did not think about breakfast after we had heard you were here."

"Let me see if Hilta will—"

"I will see to it," said Erumar, laying the tray she was holding on Arwen's lap. "You eat, and then Enguina and I are going to be quiet for a little while so you can rest."

Enguina put on her best pouting face. "Must we?"

"Erumar, really—" Arwen began.

"I would like for you to be out of here by the end of the day; is that not what you want?" she asked, and Arwen nodded. "Then stop arguing with me. Let me see to breakfast." She turned and headed out into the hallway.

Enguina reached over and tweaked Arwen's toe. "Was your conversation with Aragorn the most uncomfortable of your life?"

Arwen sighed and gave Enguina a rueful smile. "The most," she admitted, "followed closely by the one on our wedding night."

"Mmm," she said, closing her eyes. "Now you understand what I felt when I had to explain my dreams to Legolas. Telling the truth costs something, does it not?"

"Yes," Arwen agreed, studying her face. "But it is worth the pain of going through it."

"I agree," Enguina replied, "but that does not make it hurt any less." She looked at her. "You are still going to be thinking about it, still dreaming about it…the only thing that has changed is that you shared it with someone, so they can help shoulder your burden. The looks and the words from the people will not change."

"I know," Arwen said, her voice still soft. "I need to stop letting it affect me so…but I do not know if that is possible. I will try."

"We will be here for you, you know. You _can_ talk with me."

"Thank you," she said honestly. "I know, Enguina. I truly do."

* * *

It was the lunch hour, and Nardur steepled his fingers and stared across the table at Ethring.

" _What_ happened?" he asked, confused. "I thought you had taken care of this."

Ethring snorted. "How was I supposed to know that she would nearly die taking the herb? That does not happen to regular people."

"You were supposed to investigate the herb, Ethring," Nardur chided him. "Something such as this was a mistake that should not have happened." He shook his head with a sigh, and found Ethring studying him. "What? What is it?"

Ethring shrugged. "You have quite a bruise."

Nardur laughed. "Indeed! The King got a bit _carried away_ with his irritation at me the other morning. It is fine; simply ignore it. Have you seen the Queen today?"

"I know that the other elves went to visit her," added Ethring. "I also saw that yesterday, early evening, our two friends confronted the Lady near the Stables."

"Our two friends?" Nardur questioned, and then realized what Ethring meant. "Gildion and Vändir?" he said incredulously. "The two of them were _together_?"

"Yes, and they were quite sloshed—"

"Well, that is Vändir," scoffed Nardur, "always nearly drunk by the evening. But it is very interesting for the two of them to be together. Did you overhear any of their conversation?"

"It was fairly vile," he admitted. "Gildion was verbally abusive and slanderous; I will admit I wanted to hit him in the teeth myself. Vändir tried to reason with her, make her understand how important it was that she realize that she was barren and that she needed to allow her husband to lie with another woman in order to bear him an heir. At least, that was what I understood from overhearing just a tiny piece of the conversation."

"How did she take it?"

"As well as expected; clearly not as physical as the King," he pointed out. "Not well, I would say; she hurried to escape and then wandered down into the Silent Street. I did not see her leave." He nodded at Nardur. "However, it is clear that everything has been affecting them as much as you hoped."

"Well," Nardur sighed, "I do not know yet if this incident will prove useful; the only purpose it seems to have served right now is to bring the two of them together again. But that will change soon enough. We shall have a report any day now that will send a legion of our troops and the King out into the North."

"You sound quite certain."

"Quite," he agreed. "Perhaps we can work on the Queen while he is away. It will be much easier without him to influence and encourage her." He gave a little smile. "I am still waiting on some other news that I have the possibility of uncovering. I will make you aware of it, as you have kept me. Excellent work as usual, Ethring."

"Thank you," he replied, bowing his head.

* * *

Aragorn made his way into the Houses for the second time that day, but this time he did not go directly to Arwen's room. Instead, he turned into a different room where the Healers were gathered. It was evening, so there were very few Healers. Aragorn smiled when he saw the round, old woman near the wall, in the process of folding several blankets.

"Hilta," he said softly, not wanting to startle her, "may I speak with you?"

"Oh, heavens! My Lord, I'd no idea you were there," she scolded after clearly being startled anyway. "I'm assuming you've come for your wife. The other ladies left only an hour or so ago."

He nodded. "They stayed through dinner then. That was kind of them."

"The Lady Enguina was tired; I think that's why they went out. The Queen was asleep when I looked in on her not ten minutes ago."

"She is ready to go home then?"

Hilta frowned. "Talf and I agree that she still needs rest and her back isn't quite in its best state. She eats like a bird, that one; never gains an ounce! Makes the Master terribly worried about her condition; never gained anything in the last four years since 'er sickness. And potent tea on a stomach like that; I'll never understand it!"

Aragorn smiled at her fretting, knowing that Arwen must have been gently redirecting her for several hours at least. "Perhaps her stomach is still not quite right," he offered. "I am sorry if she has caused you trouble all day. Has she been a terrible patient?"

Hilta looked horrified. " _No_ , my King! The Queen's been a dear! She'll probably do better at home and away from all of us hanging on the bell at her beck and call, which she never did. I'm glad the ladies were 'ere with her, though. Too much quiet isn't good for a mind like hers…makes 'er think too much. She's right to go, the Master said, as he knew you'd be along for her."

"Thank you, Hilta. Will you thank Talf for me?" he said. "The compassion you have for those in your care is beyond compare. I know my wife is grateful."

"We're glad that she's well again," she said, and he bowed his head to her with a smile.

He turned back out of the room and followed the hallway to Arwen's room. Upon entering, he stopped at the foot of the bed, studying her features and watching her sleep. Her fever was clearly gone, and finally she lay on her side in her natural state of sleep. _That_ made him feel better; she had turned herself, which showed she was feeling stronger. He was glad, for this afternoon had been long; he had wanted to be with her, but instead he had fielded all sorts of questions about her health and then atop that he had to look into Nardur's sneering face most of the day. This served to make his blood boil, even after seeing the mark he had left on the man— _that_ should have embarrassed him, yet it did not. He could have cared less if Nardur had told the entire Council that he hit him in the face; he deserved it for what he had said…and what Aragorn assumed that he was involved in even if he would never have been able to prove it. He wished he knew for certain.

His gaze darkened as he looked at her, lying there so innocently. If he ever found out that Nardur was somehow part of this, that he was sowing thoughts into his wife's head that she was not good enough to bear him a son or that another was needed…oh, if he discovered this, he would have him in the stocks for plotting against the throne. The man _must_ have a death wish in order to take this as far as he had. One more word _to_ her or _about_ her and he was going to act. He straightened his spine and stretched his shoulders; he loved her too much to have these other men interfering and hurting her.

Aragorn went to her side and sat down on the bed, leaning his arm over her, resting his hand behind her back and looking down into her face. She blinked drowsily from the heat of him, not from him rocking the bed; she had truly been out. He bent down and pressed his lips to her temple.

"Good evening, lovely one," he said and her face flushed with pleasure at his words as she turned her head to look at him.

"What time is it?" she asked, blinking long; he could tell she was trying to drag herself up out of the depths of sleep. He could not help but smile, tracing a finger along her chin.

"It is time for you to return to the House, so you can do the same thing there that you are doing here."

"Stare at you?" she asked softly, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. "Get some more rest. Did you sleep away the afternoon? Or did Erumar and Enguina do their duty and entertain you…and make you eat? Hilta said you ate like a bird all day."

She smiled warmly. "Hilta…did she really say that? She is so concerned. It would not be the first time," she admitted, "that I would not be so hungry. My body does not return to wanting food that quickly. She does not understand."

"No," he agreed. "She is right, though…you _do_ eat like a bird sometimes. Simply picking." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Sometimes I feel like I cannot let you out of my sight or you might disappear." She rolled her eyes. "So…did Enguina and Erumar let you rest?"

"They had to leave because Enguina was tired. She did not rest well last night—probably because they were worried—and she was not feeling the best today. I slept for almost half an hour this morning, and from when they left…but no, we were talking."

"You barely slept last night," he said, stroking her face. "You need to recover your strength."

"I thought I would be fine today," she said honestly.

"You went through trauma, Arwen…you have been _going_ through trauma," he replied gently. "You struggled to survive last night, and you need to rest." He withdrew his hand from her face and laid it on her side, still leaning on his other. "How is your back feeling? Do you want to walk home or may I carry you?"

"You are simply looking for an excuse to carry me."

He nodded. "I will admit that I was."

"I think I have made a demonstration enough of myself, have I not?" she said softly. "I think I can walk well enough beside you. My back is feeling better than it was this morning. With another day or so, I should be right as rain." She lifted a hand and laid it over his. "If we are leaving, I should dress."

"I suppose everything you have said is true." He straightened and let her sit up. He watched her solicitously as she gathered herself to get up; she had not since last evening, but she seemed steady enough as she dressed.

Within moments, she was ready and the two of them said farewell to Hilta where she reminded Arwen of taking it easy and doing nothing strenuous and to eat more food. Aragorn walked beside her, her hand through his arm, this time quiet. She thought she knew what he might be thinking of, but she was not about to interrupt him. There were several guards who passed by them, wishing her glad tidings, and they knew it would only be an hour before most of Minas Tirith knew that she was well again. It felt good to be walking, and the stones were comfortable beneath her feet. As they were drawing near the House, she finally spoke.

"It is a beautiful night," she said, lifting her eyes to the stars. "The breeze is just enough to make a cool summer evening. August is not usually this cool."

"A perfect night," Aragorn agreed. "Forgive me, I was thinking of last night."

"I know," she said. "After ten years of marriage, it is difficult to hide anything."

He shook his head as he led her up the steps. "Yet sometimes we still try. It is both a blessing and a curse, is it not?" He hesitated as he opened the door for her. "Shall we sit on the porch for a little while?" _I want to talk to you, and it_ _ **is**_ _a beautiful night._

She paused. "In the back," she replied, taking his hand and leading him inside. Passing through the House, they finally came to the cushioned bench that they had placed outside for just that reason. Taking seats beside one another, he took her hands in his own.

"Arwen, do you understand what I said last night?"

Last night, the heat of the moment, was over. It was the way he said the words that made her remember specifically what he was referring to. He did not want to have the whole conversation again, when she was not feverish and in less pain, only part of it. He was reiterating the part that was most important to him, the part that was weighing on him, on her…he _knew_ it. Sometimes, she was amazed by him, by his impressive powers of understanding, by his perceptiveness. How could he know her heart like that? She wanted to believe his words, his pledge; she longed for it with her whole heart. Nodding, she sighed softly, trying to release her troubled thoughts. She could not look at him.

"And you do believe me?"

"Oh, _Aragorn_ …" she whispered, and this time she could not avoid the grey eyes that were searching for hers, surprised by her tone. "I know that whatever you speak is truth; I cannot imagine my life without your steadfast honesty. See, you cannot lie; it is your downfall." Her lips trembled in the force of her sadness. "But there are moments when I worry that you do not understand your own heart; this is one of those times." She knew she had hurt him with her words; she could see it in his eyes. Her voice lowered as she gripped his hands. "Can you honestly tell me that if we are forever unable to conceive a child, you will be content for the rest of your days?"

If he had not been thinking about this for the last four years and _most_ intensely today, perhaps he would have had to think about it. As it was, he already knew the answer to her question.

"Yes," he said, and she could see the truth of his answer in her eyes.

"Will you be _happy_?" she blurted out, tears suddenly filling hers. In her heart, she did not want to know the answer; she was terrified of it. He drew her hands to his chest and looked at her earnestly, his eyes full of his devotion to her.

"Yes, I will be happy."

She frowned sadly at his misguided nature. "Oh, Aragorn…because you will be with me?"

" _Arwen_ …I have spent my entire life waiting for you," he whispered intensely. "I have been waiting to spend every possible moment in your presence, making up for each moment we have been apart and for every year I spent alone. _You are my life_."

He could feel her anguish. "You can be happy without a child…"

"I desire a child with you, Arwen," he said honestly. "Yet I will remain happy if that desire goes unmet. I love you _more_ than that desire. I will never leave you; I will not forsake our marriage, our love, for a child, to be a father. I know that is what you want for me…but I want you more. You are all I need to be happy. I love you more than the desire for a child," he repeated, making certain that she heard it, that she understood.

He saw sudden terror in her eyes. "What if…what if _I_ can never be happy? What if I need a child to be happy?" Her breath caught as tears rolled down her face and her hands grew clammy as he held them. _What does that make me? Where does that leave us?_

He slipped his arms around her and held her against his chest. "You are in pain, beloved," he said to her gently. "It is fresh again, hard to bear…you cannot expect to be able to answer that question right now. Always, you lay blame at your feet, always you cast expectations upon yourself and strain and hardship. Let it go…do not ask the question of your heart and force an answer. It does not need to be answered at this moment."

"It _does_ ," she said, grief-stricken, her forehead pressed firmly to his chest. "It does because it changes _everything_! It will _change_ me, and it…it will destroy our marriage!" The last words were whispered so brokenly that tears came to Aragorn's eyes. "I want you to be a father…but I want so badly to be a mother. It is a _need_ …a desire that is _driving_ me, and it is _wrong_ ," she choked out. "To have such covetousness, at times I can see nothing else? This is _wrong!_ Yet how can I get past it? How can I overcome this all-consuming need?"

He drew her away from him and rested his forehead against hers. "You cannot," he whispered, "but Ilúvatar can. Every time you think of it, you must give it to him. It will not go away, not like you are asking. But you must keep giving it to him, and asking for strength, for peace. I will help you bear it; I will comfort you; I will pray with you, and for you; and I will love you," he pledged.

"I wish I could pretend that everything is all right," she said as his thumbs rubbed her cheeks again. "I wish I could pretend that I am whole, that I do not have this aching wound in my heart that is the absence of our son," she gasped as her hand clutched her heart. "Every time someone mentions it, I feel it getting wider. Sometimes I can forget for a little while, but it is always there. At times like this it is ever-present. I…I wanted him so much, Estel."

"I know, beloved," he said gently, trying to speak around the lump in his throat. _I wanted him, too; I understand your sadness…I know how much you hurt._

Oh she knew that he understood. There was as much grief in him as there was in her over their loss. He was just as grieved as her when someone would mention the baby. She thought about how often he must pray in order to overcome the pain as he had, as she could not seem to do. She wanted his peace so desperately, his contentment in her, his _happiness_ in just having her, and her alone. She _would_ destroy their marriage if she could never be happy; it was because of his devotion, his fidelity that he had not already allowed the thought into his heart that forever with him was not enough. Suddenly, she realized that it _was_ exactly what she was saying: _he_ was not enough…he would suddenly never be enough.

Arwen unwrapped her fingers from her tunic and spread them out against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, once again thinking of the rhythm of her life. She had given her whole life in eternity with her mother and father to be with him, to have eternity with him alone in Firn-i-Guinar, to sacrifice everything sacred to her people for a single man. For _so long_ …she had been deliriously happy. Why, suddenly, was that not enough now? Or was Aragorn right—was it only that her pain was so fresh and so intense that she could feel nothing else? And what did it mean to be truly happy? Was it about having something that you could never live without? She had lived without a child for nearly three thousand years, and never once until she had found love and shared life with Aragorn, had she missed one, had she wanted to be a mother. She had lived without Aragorn for the same amount of time, and she had _yearned_ for someone to share her life with. Ilúvatar had answered her prayer, and given her Aragorn.

 _Father, you have broken me…help me understand what I am feeling._

There was only one thing in her entire existence she could not live without. There were things she wanted, yes. And there were things that she _thought_ she could not live without, but if she were forced to, she could give them up. Ilúvatar had given her _one thing_ she could never live without, and she was in his arms. There was no way, in heaven or on earth, that she could live without Aragorn, had known it from the day he had left Imladris after she had first met him. The pain of living without and losing and never being able to have a child was agonizing and brutal, and the most terrible thing she had ever faced, but it was just that—it was something to face, to stand against. She could still survive; she could still live; and she would one day be happy again without the grief slapping her down.

 _Father…everything in my life is small compared to losing him. Everything. Oh…thy will be done!_

She tilted her chin, tears on her face, and he could see something different in her eyes as she met his. "I would…I would _die_ without you," she whispered. "Do you know that? Do you understand? If I did not have you, holding me, telling me these truths and reminding me of your unfailing, unending love and that of Ilúvatar…I would simply not exist."

"I love you," he whispered fervently. "I will continue to love you until the end of all time."

"Ilúvatar has given me all I need in you," she replied. "I lost sight of that in all of my grief, but I cannot live without you. You are right; the pain of my grief is all consuming sometimes, but it is only pain…it will fade with time, and I will accept it…and I will still have you to hold. You _are_ enough. _You are_."

"You do not need to reassure me," he told her. "I believe every word from your heart; I can see it in your eyes."

"Ilúvatar gave me everything I could possibly need for my entire lifetime in the gift that you are," she whispered. "As long as I have you, I will have everything I need. This storm…it will pass."

"In time," he agreed, sliding a hand around to the back of her neck and rubbing his thumb along the place where he had left a mark a week ago now. There was only a slight raise in her skin; she smiled.

"In Ilúvatar's time," she added. Then she raised her eyebrows. "I think about that night, too."

He smiled, settling into teasing her, and glad of it. "Who said I was thinking about that night?"

"The heat of your skin," she admitted. "The way your pulse increased."

"I was thinking about kissing you, if I was into telling the truth."

"I would like that very much," she murmured, and he did lean into her then, pressing his lips to hers. She continued to feel the rhythm of his heart beneath her hand and she sighed when he broke away, letting his forehead rest against hers again. "I have missed this feeling of closeness, of knowing everything about one another…no secrets lying between us. I promise to never hide anything from you ever again."

"We made our promises last night," he teased. "Unless there is something else you have not told me?"

Her heart bottomed out as she thought of her dream with the dark-haired woman. "No…" she said, but her hesitation made his heart stutter. "I mean to say…I think something I have been dreaming was from my fear of having to give you up." He knew what she meant, of making the sacrifice for them to have a child. "I do not think it will bother me again."

"You are not giving me up," he murmured, this time against her mouth. "I will not let you."

Her eyes closed as she kissed him again, long and slow. "Thank Ilúvatar for his many blessings." Just having his arms around her was enough to bring her peace tonight. Her heart _would_ take time to heal again, but she was happy. She loved him…and Ilúvatar knew that it was enough.


	22. Chapter 22

The Council met the next morning; a Ranger had returned with reports of brief skirmishes with small bands of orcs with the promise of more. They had met several Elves also picking off orcs and had begun working with them. No one had made contact with the large group of Easterlings who were gathered thirty leagues from the Sea of Rhûn, well into the Reunited Kingdom's boundaries; many were armed, but most were women, children, and beasts of burden. It was settled: within the week, the King would leave with a legion of riders for the Northern border. Though the Council did not particularly like the fact that the King intended to pledge aid if the Easterlings were in need, having allies upon their borders was worth the sacrifice of time and money.

When the meeting finally came to a close, the men began leaving to ready themselves for the supper hour. Aragorn stopped at the base of the steps and walked over into the throne room. He sat on the top step, resting his elbows forward on his knees and clasping his hands, watching and thinking as men filed out of the Tower.

It was not long before Noldore and Dintîr appeared along with a group of other councilmen. Upon seeing him there, the two of them maneuvered away from the group and came to him; standing before the steps they were nearly eye to eye. Aragorn nodded at the group that was heading out.

"Was that the last of them?"

"There might be one or two, Elessar," Noldore said. "You seem as though you were waiting for something…we thought it might have been us."

"I was, yes," he replied. "I do not know how long we shall be out on the border, it may be as many as six months…it might be less. There…are things in motion here, words, deeds, that I do not like, have not liked for some time."

"But the Ranger was honest, was he not?" asked Dintîr, confused.

"Of course," Aragorn said dismissively, "but I was not speaking of being in the North. The things that I am worried about are happening _here_."

"You are worried about the Queen," Noldore said pointedly, though he said it softly in case there were others around listening.

Aragorn did not want to address Arwen with them, not even now. That was between _them_. But he could ask for something else. "Will you promise me, both of you," he said softly, "to keep an eye on the councilmen? I am…this has been a difficult time for both of us. You know how stressed, how strained, I have been. Though we are personally more at peace does not mean the world is. I am worried that there is something moving in the shadows, something that I cannot see."

"Of course we will," Noldore said immediately. "But if you are so worried, do you think it wise to leave now?"

"You heard them in there," Aragorn continued. "There is need for me to go. I could call Prince Faramir and send him, but I think it best if I attend to this matter myself. Making peace with the Easterlings is an important task, no matter how poor the timing may appear. I am not worried about waging war with a group of orcs; I am concerned about what may happen here while I am away."

"Your intuitions are usually correct, Elessar," Dintîr stated. "As Noldore said, of course we shall keep an eye on them, and others within the City as well. We will make certain the Queen remains safe."

Aragorn nodded. "I think it will not be long before Prince Legolas arrives as well. I do not know how long he and the Lady intend to remain or if they will be traveling to Ithilien soon after he arrives. I am unsure of their intentions, but him being here shall also deter those who might seek to…act foolishly."

"You have our word, Elessar," stated Noldore.

"You can rely on us," added Dintîr.

He reached out and clasped their shoulders. "I knew that I could, my friends."

* * *

The three elves were sitting around the table giggling when Aragorn walked in, plates of food laid out for everyone, including him.

"Look!" Enguina exclaimed. "He _actually_ made it for dinner!"

"I think it was the plate we set out this time," said Erumar, "which I will have to say I have been urging you to do for nearly two weeks, Enguina."

"I am simply glad he is here," she said, giving him a smile as he left his boots in the corner and made his way to the table. He laid a hand on Arwen's arm and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Hello to you all," he said, taking his seat. "Have you already given thanks?"

"Only just," Arwen said, giving him a smile.

"I have to say I am glad because I am famished and this looks delicious. Thank you to…?"

"Enguina," Erumar piped in. "She was the chef today as Arwen and I were trying desperately to finish the mobile we were making for the baby's crib. We did not finish, so please do not step on all of the beads as you walk through the sitting room later!"

"We agreed to finish tomorrow," Arwen told him and he nodded.

Enguina laughed. "I was not any good at the metal working anyway. Anyone can string beads though, so I was fairly good at that. When I was finished doing that, I came out here to cook this chicken."

"What else did the three of you do today?"

"Stayed here," Arwen said. "Took a midday nap—"

"Oooo, you make us sound _terribly_ lazy," Enguina complained.

It was Erumar's turn to laugh. "Yes, the two of them napped while I kept working on the mobile. This morning Arwen was _carving_ , which she has not done in years." Aragorn lifted his head and looked over at her.

"You did?" he asked and she blushed. "What did you begin?"

"A pull-toy that will have little wheels," Enguina said. "It is simply adorable!"

"Oh, Enguina, it does not look like much of anything yet," Arwen said, rolling her eyes. "When I tired of that, I worked on another little tunic with Erumar."

"I still have not finished the one I started yet," Enguina laughed. "I am so slow at it!"

"Well, you have several months," Aragorn reminded her with a smile, glad they had a very good day together. "I am sure you will finish it before the child is born."

"We really are glad that you were able to come for dinner," Erumar said. "What were you out and about doing today?"

"The Council had a meeting," he said, "and Falth, one of the Rangers sent to the Northern Border, returned with tidings." Arwen's fork stilled on her plate. He knew that she knew what he was about to say. "They were not what I had hoped. The Easterlings have gathered within our borders, and there are orcs raiding our lands, coming down from the North, though they are far from their strongholds in the Misty Mountains. Thranduil's people usually check them, but something must be happening up there we do not understand. I think our people, Thranduil's people, and these wandering Easterlings are soon to be under attack."

"That is awful," Enguina said. "What are Lasgalen and Gondor going to do about it?"

"I will be riding out in four or five days with a legion of riders," he said, his words were soft. "We will go to the Easterling camp, offer protection and extend the hand of peace, and then hunt down these orcs that are plaguing them and trespassing into our lands."

" _You_ are going?" Enguina asked. "For how long?"

"Some months," he replied. "Perhaps not more than two, but it might be as many as six. I cannot say; it will depend on what we find when we arrive."

Arwen's heart was in her toes, and she knew he could feel it. She _knew_ that this had always been a possibility; why then did she feel so blind-sided?

"You shall miss the birth, though," Enguina said, frowning. "We, Legolas and I, wanted you to be here…or in Ithilien; I truly cannot say as we had not discussed that far."

"I may yet be here. I do not know how long it shall take."

"You shall have to try for less than three," Arwen said softly, "if you are to be here for Enguina."

"You _must_!" she said. "I need you!"

Aragorn laughed. "Enguina, you shall be well-taken care of, I am certain of it. Whether you are here in the Houses, at home, or in the guesthouse if you choose, you shall be well-watched over. Arwen would not let you out of her sight."

"That is true," Arwen admitted. "Now that I know, I could be nowhere else."

"Aragorn," said Erumar softly, "would it be…a terrible nuisance for me to…come along?"

There was total silence at the table, and even though it only lasted a few seconds, Erumar blushed dreadfully and looked away back to her food, picking at it with her fork and feeling so sick to her stomach that she thought she might retch.

"Praise Ilúvatar," Enguina said with a grin to break the silence. Erumar did not look up.

"There would certainly be room for you," Aragorn said, "and I would be glad to have you with us. You are most welcome."

"I will be glad to have you traveling with Aragorn. You will be safe with so many spears," Arwen said, reaching across the table and laying her hand on Erumar's. "We are happy for you."

"Yes!" cried Enguina, bumping Erumar with her arm. "We _are_ happy for you. I am thrilled that you decided to go."

"I know," she said, still refusing to look up and feeling quite small. "I know you all are; forgive my awkwardness, please. It is…I have so much weighing on me about this decision."

"It is beautiful there," Aragorn said easily. "And in winter, a spectacular place to be. I hope you will spend some serious time there before you return."

"Serious time?" laughed Enguina. "Our time is not like yours, Aragorn! She could spend a hundred years there, would that be serious time?"

"If Ilúvatar is willing, I may see you if you return," he chuckled.

"What will you be then?" said Erumar with a sudden smile. "Two hundred?"

"One hundred ninety-seven," Arwen replied. "You shall definitely be grey."

"Indeed. You will not be able to count the grey hairs then," he teased her. Then he looked over to Erumar who had finally lifted her head. "To be honest though, I will be happy to have you along. If there is any fighting that begins, you will stay out of it, of course."

"Of course," she said reasonably. "I am not your wife or even Enguina, both of whom are quite adept at swordplay. I do not even know how to _wield_ a sword. I have never even held one. I suppose while we are on the road I should learn a move or two, just in case. Even if it were only a dagger."

"In case," he agreed. Then he smiled. "Hildanir might enjoy teaching you; perhaps you can pair up with him and he can show you a thing or two. Or I can, of course; we will be traveling for nearly a month."

"Oh, Hildanir," Enguina said with fondness. "He is such a good man; so loyal."

"He is one of the best men I have ever met," Aragorn said, thinking of Arwen as he did. "It will be well for him to travel with us. Now, Enguina, when do you expect Legolas to arrive? I was hoping he would make his way here before I left, but clearly…that is not going to happen."

She sighed. "I do not know. We spoke that he would return in August, but perhaps Gimli is keeping him a bit longer." She shrugged. "I do not know, Aragorn. I want him here more than you do. I feel as though I have grown and he will not even recognize me when he arrives!"

"He would have to be a blind fool," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "He will be surprised though, when he sees you. You have grown even in the last two weeks; it is only a little but it is clear. Do you all have anything planned for tomorrow aside from finishing the mobile?"

"Working on our other projects," Arwen replied. "We have enough to do."

"Napping!" volunteered Enguina with a laugh.

"It might be nice to go to the Market within the next two days. We have not been there in a few days. We should go to the church on Sunday as well, the day before you are to depart, Aragorn."

He nodded. "Yes; it would be nice to go there together and worship before we part. An excellent idea, Erumar. Let us plan for that, shall we?"

"And we can pray for the safety of your journeys," said Enguina. "And that Legolas will hurry!"

Arwen laughed. "I am sure that he is hurrying as we speak."

* * *

Erumar and Enguina were seated on the floor in the sitting room in the King's House, Erumar embroidering, Enguina quilting for the first time in a long while. This time, she was quilting a design of their house; she had not finished a square about that yet, so she busied herself with it. Erumar, on the other hand, was embroidering the little dress Arwen had finished early this morning. It was such a pretty thing, and Arwen had been happy to let Erumar put little flowers on the edges.

Enguina glanced up and looked at Arwen, who lay on the divan facing away from them, fast asleep. She frowned and then reached over to pull the light blanket up and over Arwen's shoulders. It was another rainy morning, and this time it was chilly and cold. It mirrored Arwen's mood today, and it made Enguina sad.

"She had a very long night," Erumar said softly, watching Enguina.

"It makes me feel awful," she replied, running a hand along Arwen's hair. "She was so quiet when we came in today, and Aragorn did not want to leave her this morning, you could see it in his eyes. He is worried; he is worried about what is going to happen when he leaves. Elbereth, will she _ever_ sleep? He is right beside her, comforting her, and yet she _still_ dreams."

Erumar put down her embroidery and looked over at her friend. "Do you not still dream, Enguina, when Legolas holds you?"

She nodded in response. "I suppose so." She laid her hand and rubbed the six month swell of her belly very gently. "I wish…I wish Ilúvatar had never taken their baby," she whispered. "I wish he were here now, not in that tomb beneath that marker. She never really talks about losing him; even in the past when she lost him and I tried to comfort her. It was never enough; she simply wept until Aragorn would come and hold her. Sometimes, I think we feel things too deeply." She looked at Erumar. "Especially loss."

"Yes," she agreed softly. "It is so… _hard_ to lose. To lose my husband after so many years together is a difficult pain to bear, but to lose a child who I would have never seen, never touched, never held…I do not know how one handles that pain. To be so close to having a child of her own, and then to lose him…"

"Do you remember what she said this morning? About Aragorn?"

"That she would die without him? I think she is right. Her heart would break into a thousand pieces, and she would never find them again."

"Erumar…her mortal life has been so _hard_ ," she muttered, stroking Arwen's hair again. "No matter what I feel for Aragorn, she should not have given up her immortality to be with him. I…do not think it is worth it; not the pain that she has been through, is still going through."

"She thinks it is, or she would not be here."

Enguina was silent for a moment. "Erumar," she said softly, her voice thick with tears, "I do not want her to die. She _cannot_ die." Erumar's lips came together but she could find nothing to say. Instead, she reached down and began embroidering once again. "I will not let her."

"She sacrificed her gift for him. There is no hope of getting it back," she said firmly. "It is too late, Enguina. There is nothing you can do to prevent something that has already happened. This you must let go; she gave all of it up for him, to love him. It seems hard to us, who are immortal, but to her, Aragorn is all that she wants."

"Not all."

"Some things matter more than others, Enguina," she told her gently. "The two of them matter more to each other than anything else. You must let this go, dearest. There is nothing you can do."

"I care for Aragorn," she said, "but…I cannot imagine giving up eternity for him."

"Would you do it for Legolas?"

"I…well, I would not have to," she disagreed, confused.

"But if you had to…would you do it? To be able to love him?"

"Yes," she said, "but I would have tried to find an elf, Erumar. I would have made sure he was immortal like myself before falling for him. That is why our races do not mix. My parents would have threatened my _life_ —"

"Lord Elrond _did_ ," Erumar said. "Elrond tried everything to get her to leave him, Enguina. She knew what she was sacrificing." She sighed, low and long. "Just…let it go. Hopefully, we shall not have to worry over that for a long time yet."

Enguina lowered her hand, still looking into Arwen's face. "I wish she could really talk about losing the baby. I think it might help her."

"Some things…do not help," Erumar said, and Enguina turned to look at her. She thought of the moment when they received the news that Haldir had been killed in battle, how grief-stricken Erumar had been, her wails of agony…she remembered too well.

"Perhaps you are right," she murmured. "At least she is sleeping now. I am glad for that." Erumar went back to her work and Enguina watched her for a few minutes. "That embroidery you are designing is so beautiful," she told her, and Erumar looked up with a bit of a smile, nodding at Enguina's handiwork.

"As is yours. It looks so much like your home it is uncanny. I suppose you have every detail of the house memorized in your mind. I would, if I had built it with my own hands."

Enguina laughed softly. "You _did_ help build it, Erumar."

"But it is not my home," she said. _You do not really_ have _a home, Erumar. Does Lórien count? It has so faded from what it once was._

"It _could_ be," Enguina said. "If you decide to stay in Lasgalen for a time, perhaps you could make your way back to us in Ithilien. We would be happy to have you near."

"Enguina, I would never _dream_ of—"

"It would not be a bother! Legolas and I would love it if you stayed with us. He has grown as fond of you as I am!"

Erumar shook her head. "It would be such an intrusion. I would feel awkward…as though someone needed to watch out for me."

"Someone _does_ ," Enguina insisted, ignoring Erumar's sudden scowl. "You should not be alone; that is why you are riding with Aragorn to Eryn Lasgalen instead of riding alone. _And_ the world is still too dangerous for an unarmed woman to be riding alone; both of us did that when we should not have."

"Mmm," Erumar muttered, looking back to the dress. "Well, you have learned now, so…that should be no problem for you."

"Yes, Aragorn and Legolas were kind enough to teach me, you know. Legolas said that it is unbalanced to use only one knife, but I am comfortable with it. It is light and _deadly_." She gave a wicked grin. "I have used it a few times, though it was a bit before I really knew what I was doing. I have become quite good, though I find I will likely not have much cause to use it."

"No doubt," Erumar chuckled. "Legolas would protect you well-enough anyway."

"You know," Enguina added with a little smirk, "I found something else I am really good at."

"Oh?" she asked. "Aside from cooking, as long as you are not poisoning people?"

"Oh that was low!" she said, but burst out laughing. "That was so long ago now. Anyway, I find that I am _exceptionally_ good at arousing my husband whenever I want to."

Erumar rolled her eyes, but laughed. "That is not a hidden talent, Enguina!"

"I always wondered, is that because they are predisposed to being attracted to us, or do I really have some sort of effect on him, or is it simply because all women have that effect on their husbands when they marry?"

"I do not think all women have that effect on their husbands," Erumar said, trying to answer her question honestly. "It helps, of course, for your husband to be fascinated by you, but I think you purposely try to drive him mad. I have seen you…and you are the worst."

She chuckled, and blushed. "Well…he seems to enjoy it."

"Without a single doubt." She put another stitch or two in her embroidery. "Just do not seduce him too much upon your return; remember, you are carrying a babe now."

"I cannot…" she murmured, thinking, her hand straying to her belly. "We cannot make love while I am with child?"

"You might find it extremely uncomfortable, in fact," Erumar admitted. "Your biggest worry should not be discomfort, but of putting the baby at risk of you going into labor."

"That can happen?" she asked, immediate fear on her face.

"Relax," Erumar said soothingly. "It would not happen now, but as you get closer to November, it is possible. For your own peace of mind, and for mine, do not seduce your husband at the end of your pregnancy."

"So am I allowed to cuddle?"

Erumar rolled her eyes. "I think by definition, cuddling has nothing to do with love-making, so I would think that would be safe, silly. You know, you are going to be doing a lot more thinking about the child than you are about making love to Legolas…most likely for the next thousand years."

Enguina chuckled. "Thousand years, hmmm? I cannot imagine not thinking about making love with Legolas, honestly."

"You have only been married four years, so why should you not imagine it?"

"Erumar, last night Aragorn mentioned Legolas returning home, and I suddenly grew worried. What if…what if something happens on the road and Legolas does not make it home?"

" _Enguina_ ," Erumar chided, "do not even think such things. He has plenty of time to get here, three months in fact."

"Well, two and a half," Enguina added honestly. "I guess I just want him here so badly, I…worry I will be alone here."

"Arwen will be with you, no matter what. She would never let you out of her sight if you were nine months and Legolas was not here. But he will be, so stop fretting. Do not be anxious for him; he will be here soon enough."

"It is…it is not only that," she murmured, a little embarrassed at her own thoughts. "Erumar, I _am_ afraid of giving birth. I know I do not seem it, or that I do not think about it very much, but I think about it all the time. I _am_ worried…and I am even more worried to think that it is possible Legolas might not be here with me. I will be _very_ alone."

Erumar reached over and placed her hand on her arm. "He will be here, now stop that. And you will not be alone giving birth. Arwen would not let that happen. I…wish I could say the same."

"No, I want you to go to Eryn Lasgalen, and I want you to get to know Thranduil. We will see you again, sooner than you think, I am sure. You are right, of course, I will be fine."

"Giving birth can be a bit frightening," Erumar admitted. "I know that is what you are thinking about. It is a challenge to prepare yourself for it, but you are strong and healthy, Enguina. You have nothing to worry about."

"Except to be careful."

Erumar chuckled. "Well, yes…except for that. You know, childbirth is a gift to women, Enguina. Think about it like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Ilúvatar meant it as a gift to us," she said, reaching over and laying her hand on Enguina's abdomen. "We have a connection with the baby before they are even born; they know our voice, our touch, our warmth. Though we bear them into the world through some pain, men never know or understand that pain. These connections we have with our children set this gift apart from others given to us by Ilúvatar. It may be hard and confusing…and even frightening, but it is also beautiful and wonderful. I mentioned much of that before."

"You did tell me a lot on our ride to Minas Tirith," she agreed. "And you are probably right: I shall forget all about the pain of it when I touch his precious skin." She rubbed her hand along her belly. "Baby, baby…" she whispered, and then smiled at Erumar. "Legolas and I still need to think of names!"

"A daunting task," she chuckled, "but one that the two of you will be up for."

"I should come up with a few before he arrives so that it does not appear that I was idle the entire time he was away. Will you help me?"

"Me?" Erumar said, blinking. "Oh Enguina, I do not know..."

"Just a few!" she pleaded. "Even if they are humorous!"

"Oh…all right…"

* * *

It was early afternoon the following day when Erumar and Enguina finally decided to make their quick trip to the Market. Arwen had originally planned on going with them as her back was feeling much better and so was she today, but then she figured she might as well begin dinner instead. So they were on their own at the moment and had agreed to meet her back at the House in a reasonable amount of time so they could help her finish. It was a bright and beautiful day, unlike yesterday where it had been gloomy, so initially they were glad they had waited to come until today. That was until they spent more than a few minutes in the Market.

The Market was exceedingly crowded, but they got what they came for and a few other odds and ends. At least the people had not been fawning over Enguina all day again; only a few people who had not yet been able to give her their congratulations were hanging around her and offering her their blessings. Erumar had not seen the fourth level this crowded in all the time she had spent time in Minas Tirith. It bothered her _hugely_ , rubbing elbows with all of these people. For someone like her who had spent much of the past ten years almost entirely alone, this was too much. She wanted to run, but instead she suffered silently, staying close to Enguina, her breath short, the feeling of the throng pressing in all around her.

Enguina did not notice that Erumar was crowding her space. In fact, the only thing _she_ could think of was how stifling she was at the moment. She lifted her hand and wiped her brow, feeling slightly sick. Perhaps it was the press of the crowd, the heat of the day, the lack of the water she had not been drinking. Whatever the case was, she needed to leave this crowd. Reaching over, she took hold of Erumar's upper arm and tugged her along and out of the mass of people meandering around the stalls. She kept her in tow until she found a side-street and took it immediately. Only then did she release her friend's arm.

"You will have to forgive me," she said, fanning her face. "I do not know what happened, but I think the heat was overcoming me in the Market." She glanced over at Erumar who had her eyes closed and her hand on her chest. "What is the matter?"

"I…the crowd," she muttered, trying to control her breathing. "You are…not well?"

"I think I will be all right, but you are frightening me," she admitted. "Why did you not say something sooner? I could have—"

"I am fine," she said, wiping her brow as well. "I…have never been in a crowd like that before. Not like that…pressing in on me, touching me from all sides."

"The Market can be overwhelming," she said, laying a hand on Erumar's shoulder and on her own abdomen as well. "I remember the first time Legolas brought me here; I stayed between him and Éowyn so no one would touch me. At least we are on a back street now; we will be close to the wall and out of the heat and the crowd."

"Do you want to sit down for a few moments? Do you feel faint? We have not had much to drink today," she admitted. "Now I am worried for you. I was so blinded by what I was feeling I never thought of it."

"No, no," Enguina said, shaking her head. "Everything will be fine. I just need to take a few breaths of fresh air and settle my stomach. Come now, and we will walk back to Arwen. We shall just take our time doing so." She lifted the basket once again over her arm and Erumar did the same, following her lead.

Winding along the back streets of Minas Tirith, they met several very interesting people who just happened to be sitting outside their doors or walking to friends' houses or heading to the Market. It was so quiet that the two of them thought they might take this route all the time, looking at the long wall that had been rebuilt, extra stone here and there along the wall opposite the one rebuilt. Erumar was walking along, Enguina in front when she suddenly stopped; Erumar almost ran into her back. She did not know why her friend had stopped, but she could _smell_ the stale alcohol on the man before she even looked around her. Erumar would never have known his name, neither would Enguina, but she certainly recognized him. It was the same man who she had seen in the Market glaring at Enguina two weeks ago. The man beside him she did not recognize, but the sneers on their faces clearly showed both were in a foul mood. The one who stood nearest Enguina was thinner than the bulk on the left.

"May I help you, my Lords?" Enguina asked as Erumar came up along her shoulder, standing opposite the other man. Enguina appeared to be eyeing him; did she know him from somewhere?

The man stared hard at Enguina, his arms crossed. The other was quite close, his hands calmly at his sides, though both appeared more drunk than threatening. "We saw you walking in the Market, and thought we'd stop you both. We wanted to give _our_ well-wishes, _too_." His voice was full of derision, and Enguina's chin came up at his words.

"We wish to pass. We are on our way to the King's—"

"You're not passing by just yet. _Congratulations_ on your _fertility_ ," he said, making an elaborate bow to her. "You know, it's not every day an elf gets laid and is able to bear fruit." If Enguina did not have enough presence of mind, her mouth would have fallen open.

"Well, it may be that the elf gets laid every day," the other laughed from beside him. "But after ten years, you would think we would _see_ some fruit." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Enguina remembered exactly who he was.

"Watch your tongue, _Gildion_ ," Enguina snapped, "that is the Queen of Gondor you slander! You should remember well what happened last time you—"

"Oh, we _know_ ," the first man remarked, leaning towards her. "You know it should be _her_ heavy with child, not you. We know damn well how many times the King has laid her down—"

" _Too many_ ," added Gildion with a smirk.

"—and it's unnatural. Let's compare, shall we? How many times've you rolled in the hay with that elf-prince of yours?"

"You are both despicable and crude, _and_ drunk," Erumar said, glaring at them. "Enguina, let us—"

The man closest to Enguina reached out and caught her arm, pulling her too close and too quickly for her to get a hand up and slap him across the face. "What're you," he said, roughly handling her belly, "seven months? Maybe you could give the Queen a few ideas." Enguina was so stunned that she could hardly pull away, her feet suddenly frozen at the feel of another man's hands on her. Too many awful memories were suddenly troubling her at once.

" _Unhand her_!" Erumar snarled, stepping forward, and Gildion shoved her rudely back with a quick thrust to the chest.

"Take it easy, bitch," he stated. "Vändir is not interested in _that_."

"Watch your tongue!"

"You shouldn't be the one with a baby," the first man, Vändir, was snarling under his breath into Enguina's face. "You don't deserve one. This is the realm of _Gondor_ , and the King needs an heir for the throne to survive. What gives you the right to walk these streets and be with child? To show off that baby when you know this land needs one?"

Erumar surged forward again to Enguina's defense, and this time, a hand caught her shoulders and yanked her back; someone was behind her, holding her, and she immediately began to struggle. Her words echoed the ones that followed from Enguina's mouth.

"Let go of me!" Enguina cried, ignoring his words; more in fear of his deeds and the possibility of a wandering hand. _Stop touching me! Do not touch my baby!_ She tried to pull back from him but he held tight, the ale on his breath coupled with the heat making her lightheaded once again. " _Please_!"

"You are _no one_ ; you are _nothing!_ " he snapped. "You elves are good as whores and that's about all, well except maybe _you_. Now wait, there's an idea, Gildion! How about _this_ one? Elessar could bed her easily enough after the child's born. We know well enough she's got something the Queen doesn't have." His hand moved on her belly again and her body attempted to jerk away from him involuntarily. "You know, I kind of _like_ the feel of a woman with a child."

This was too much for Erumar. She lunged for him, fury overtaking reason; the force of her pull driving her shoulders out of the man's hands. "Get your _filthy_ hands off of her you, bast—" The curse was cut off by a resounding slap that echoed on the street and snapped Erumar's head to the left. It was a blow she had not seen coming; the basket she had been carrying hit the stone and so did she, half on her knees, holding her face, stunned.

"Erumar!" cried Enguina, trying to turn back to her and pull away from Vändir. As she did, she saw the third man behind Erumar.

"You will not speak to a man that way, you _bitch_ ," Gildion snapped, raising his hand to strike her again.

" _Stop_ _it_!" Enguina yelled, but Vändir spun her back toward him.

"You know what? On second thought, if the Queen can't have a child, then _you_ don't deserve one either. It ain't just her, the Queen; you're _all_ a bunch of Elvish whores—that's right! All you're good for is some bumping in the night!"

Erumar lifted her head, pain firing through her face. "Do not speak to the Princess—"

Gildion struck her again, this time with his fist, breaking the skin at the corner of her lip. "We are councilmen!"

"We don't take orders from _whores_!" snapped the man behind her, as he, too, hit her in the face as she tried to lift her head again.

" _Stop_!" cried Enguina. This time, Erumar's head did not come up, but she was blinking rapidly.

"That's right, you arrogant bitch; learn some proper respect!" Gildion ordered.

"You think you can come in here and parade around?" Vändir continued, growling into Enguina's face. "Show yourself off, hmm? Show off that you've got a child and maybe the people of Gondor will be pleased with that, huh?"

"No," Enguina said, scratching at the hand on her arm. "No, I am _sorry_! I did not mean to offend anyone!"

"Well, you did, _Princess_ ," Vändir barked. "You don't belong with child! _Our_ Queen does!"

"Please, just let me go!" she cried, seeing the flames, the anger in his eyes. "You cannot—"

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" he said and spat in her face. Enguina spun her head away, disgust making her stomach spin. He shoved her brutally, and she found herself stumbling across the back street towards the opposite wall. She could not get her feet beneath her, and fumbling, threw out her hands, but they never caught her as she fell backwards. The collision with the wall _hurt_ , and she gasped, her head, neck, and back aching with the impact. She fell to her knees, her hand darting to her head and the startling pain she felt there, the other wrapping around her womb. She gave no thought to getting up at the moment, trying to prevent herself from falling over. Her breathing was hard; she had the wind knocked out of her.

Erumar on the other hand launched herself suddenly to her feet, shoving Gildion backwards as she reached for Vändir who was bending down to pick something up. The man behind her grabbed her around the throat, choking her, dragging her back and hooking an arm through both of hers before she even had time to react.

"Hold that bitch, Felof," snarled Gildion as he, too, stooped down. When Erumar saw what they had been reaching for, she began screaming through the tight grip on her throat, struggling like a slippery eel as Felof tried to hold on to her.

" _ **Do not touch her! Damn you! Do not touch her!**_ "

Enguina heard her screaming, and lifted her head just as the first heavy rock struck her in the ribcage. Pain speared through her and she cried out, grabbing her side and doubling over, immediately curling herself around the baby. _Nonononono!_ _Eru please! No!_ Another heavy stone struck her back, instantly bruising her skin.

" _Stop_! _Please_!" she cried out, gasping in pain. Another stone fell upon her back, bruising her shoulder blade this time.

" _ **Do not t—**_ " Erumar's voice cut out as Felof choked her; she spent the next few moments trying to get air in her lungs as she thrashed against his hold.

It was the screaming that drew the attention of several people in the surrounding homes, three of them older women, their husbands at work. The fourth was Sera, her daughter following her outside, crying _Mommy!_ and clutching her dress.

"Dear _Heavens_!" Sera cried as she left the porch, turning her daughter back inside. "You stay inside, Paden! D'you hear me? _Right there, inside!_ " She turned, rushing down the steps and running toward Gildion. "Stop! _Stop!_ What the _hell_ d'you think you're—"

She had not seen Felof, and he stepped out and blocked her path, shoving her with his shoulder, nearly strangling Erumar again as he knocked Sera back. "Stay out of it if you know what you're about, woman!" Sera heard Enguina cry out as two more rocks struck her back and thigh. Erumar shouted something that was too garbled by choking to understand; her face was nearly purple.

"What's the _matter_ with you?" Sera cried, tears springing to her eyes as she grabbed Felof's arm, trying to free Erumar. "Stop this _now!_ "

"What is this madness?" exclaimed an old woman from her porch. "What is going on out here?"

Sera hauled on Felof's arm and he tried to shove her away with his elbow. That loosened his grip just enough for Erumar to snatch one breath.

" _ **Stop it NOW!**_ " she roared.

Flinging herself forward, her right shoulder popped as she yanked her arm out of Felof's and dragged his wrist away from her throat. He tried to grab her but she whirled on him, tearing at his face with her hands. He yelled and threw his hands up to protect his eyes. Straightening her fingers, she jabbed them ferociously into his throat, choking him. As he dropped, she brought her knee up into his face, snapping his nose with a bloody crack. By the time his body hit the ground, she had bolted across the street, flinging herself over Enguina, her hands pressing to the wall around her.

Sera tried to grab Gildion's arm next, but he elbowed her back and she fell away, not knowing what to do. She was not strong enough to fight them on her own and the rocks fell around Erumar as she clutched herself around Enguina. She heard another crack and closed her eyes in horror. The only thing she could do was what Erumar had been doing—yell with all her might.

"Help!" screamed Sera aloud. " _Help someone, please!_ "

" _Eru_ have mercy!"

"Stop! What're you _doing?!_ "

"By the stars, what the _hell_!"

More voices were coming, but the two men, so drunk and uncontrolled, so full of rage, did not cease, not even when the nearby silversmith darted down the street to grab Gildion's arm. Instead, the former councilmen took the rock he was clutching and brought it down on his head. Sera screamed as he fell, and Gildion whipped the rock over his head towards Erumar and Enguina.

Suddenly, the councilman cried out as an arrow lodged itself into his shoulder from above the two elves huddling against the wall. He fell over and another man who had been nearby leapt onto his body and held him down by the throat.

"Halt! Stay where you are!" came the shout from the wall, but Vändir dropped the rock he had been holding and bolted down the street, only to come stumbling to a stop at the edge of two Gondorian spears.

"Hold your positions!" shouted the Lieutenant, Ailan was his name, before him to the men on the wall. "Let none of these men from your sight; _shoot_ them if you must!" Vändir made a move to take a step back, but the guard thrust his spear forward. "Get your hands up before I have no choice but to run you through!"

Vändir clearly had no other course of action and raised his hands.

"Bind him, Erosh!" the Lieutenant shouted to another guard behind him who held a sword.

"Yes, Lieutenant." Immediately, the man went forward and wound his hands behind his back, binding them tightly with rope. Vändir almost fell over, but Erosh yanked him to his feet. "Stand up!" he ordered.

"I need you, Erosh," Ailan said fiercely. "On me, please. Haneth, take this filth and hold him there, against the wall." The Lieutenant walked forward, waving his other two guards forward as well. "Get those two up and bind them as well. I want them taken to the Tower, and make haste!" He walked directly to Erumar, who was pressed into Enguina's body, holding her tight to the wall. Ailan could hear her muttering, the woman's whole body trembling.

"Shh…shh…I…I have you…I…protect…" Her words were slurring, and as Ailan drew near, he could see the very visible wound on her head. There were nearly twenty stones on the ground around them. His ire was kindled; he had eyes for nothing but the blood upon a few of those stones.

"What was the _meaning_ of this?" he shouted. No one answered him as he turned to the now large crowd and saw his men dragging Gildion off the ground. They appeared to have a much more difficult time getting Felof up. Ailan nodded to the man who lay on the ground, seeing Sera's hand on the man's chest. "Is the silversmith—"

"Etan is _dead_ ," she said brokenly, and another guard came and took her arm to gently draw her away. "He was trying to stop him!"

"Mommy! _Mommy!_ " cried Paden, who could wait no longer in the house and was running full-tilt toward her. Sera turned and wrapped her arms around her daughter, lifting her from the street. Ailan could not pay any more attention to them at the moment; he had to trust his men to do their job. He knelt down beside the elvish woman; he could not even remember her name.

Erumar was trembling so terribly that she did not think she could move without falling over. Her head was forward, laying on Enguina's back. Pain was spearing up through her right arm, her back, and she felt wetness running down her face and trailing down her chest. _Blood._ Her head hurt so terribly she could barely think straight, but she did have one coherent thought: _protect Enguina and the baby_. She could not let her go, could not lean away, not with the chance that something else might hurt her.

"My Lady, my Lady, you must let her go." Ailan reached down and took her shoulder in his hand, trying to ease her back off Enguina. She could not let her go and she could hardly understand him. The words were only coming to her in bits and pieces. She tried to shake her head, but the pain was incredible. She gasped.

"Please, my Lady, I need to get both of you to the Houses of Healing immediately."

"The Lady Enguina is unresponsive," Erosh stated softly from his left side. "But I cannot tell if she has fainted or has been injured severely. We need to remove her, now, Ailan, and they both need warm blankets."

"I do not know if the Lady can hear me," he said to Erosh and the man shook his head, also unsure. Erosh turned his head towards the crowd.

"Blankets!" he shouted. "Does anyone have any blankets?"

As two women scrambled to their porches, Ailan leaned forward, placing a hand against Erumar's head to stabilize her neck. He tried to lean her back into him, but then noticed that her right arm had an angle where there should not have been one. He cursed. "Her arm is broken," he said.

"We still need to move her," Erosh stated as he turned to take the blankets from the women. "Thank you for your kindness."

Ailan took one and wrapped it around Erumar. He had to focus on her head injury, not her arm. In the end, after leaning her back, she had to release Enguina; she had no strength and no presence of mind but to continue to mutter Enguina's name. Ailan scooped Erumar up, and there were gasps and mutterings from the crowd when they saw Enguina fall sideways into Erosh's arms. He held her, inspecting her head, and after wrapping her in the blanket, lifted her.

"Well?" Ailan asked before moving any further, Erumar's voice still fluttering up to him. Her trembling was making his whole body shake. He held her more tightly and heard her gasp; there was nothing he could do for her arm just now.

"I think most of the blood is the Lady Erumar's," Erosh replied softly, "but she does have an injury as well on the back of her head. Not as bad, but it could be dangerous…fatal even. Who knows what other injuries they may have sustained in this—"

"Haneth! Liakas!" Ailan shouted as he turned. The two guards snapped to attention, still painfully pinning the culprits to the fourth level wall. "Both of you see these men make it to the Tower of Ecthelion. When I come, I will bring with me a full report of their injuries. Bring Etan the silversmith as well; he can be laid out in the Houses." He turned towards the crowd. "If any of you bore witness to this event, you are summoned to the White Tower to give testimony. Follow these men to the Citadel." He turned back to his second. "Erosh, come."

The two men headed back down the street, cradling the elves in their arms, walking as quickly as possible. "Form up!" yelled Erosh from his place behind Ailan. "Clear the way! Make haste!"

Several of Ailan's men hurried forward to carry out the orders clearing the streets before them all the way to the Houses.


	23. Chapter 23

A sudden and thunderous knock on the door of the King's House caused Arwen to startle and her knife to slip and slice the edge of her finger. She cursed, bringing her finger to her mouth and sucking on it. Before she could even respond, she heard Hildanir's urgent voice.

"Lady Evenstar!" he called. "Are you within?"

Worry at the insistent cadence of his voice overcame every other thought. She pulled open the door just as he had been about to bang again. "Hildanir? What—"

"My Lady, the Ladies Enguina and Erumar have been brought to the Houses of Healing," he said, and she stared at him. "I have not heard of their condition, only to bring word to you that they were two of three victims in a most vicious attack on the fourth level."

" _What?_ " she asked, horror in her face, nearly too stunned to move. As he continued, she could see a loud and rather boisterous crowd gathering before the White Tower, fists in the air, some faint shouting reaching her ears.

"An attack, my Lady. I heard that it involved the councilmen Felof, and two former ones." His gaze darkened. "Gildion and—"

" _Vändir_ ," she whispered. She turned immediately and threw water on the fire she had been cooking over. When she returned, Hildanir nodded.

"Yes, those were the names I had heard. The third victim, Etan, the silversmith, is dead." She stared at him, stunned.

"A man is _dead_?" She could not comprehend this, and all she could think of was getting to them; all she could think of was reaching Enguina and that child. She gripped his arm.

"Let me pass, Hildanir. I must go this moment." He shook his head.

"I must escort you, my Lady. I am at your disposal for the duration; I am, from this moment, your personal guard unless you are with the King."

She stared at him, shocked. "Have they not been caught?"

"Oh, no…they are in custody and on their way into the Tower; there would otherwise be rioting in the streets. This is for your safety, my Lady. Come with me, please, and I will take you directly to them."

"Thank you," she said, pulling the door closed behind her.

The two of them were in the tunnel in moments. But even in her panic and race to get to Enguina and Erumar, she could not help but be distracted by thoughts of what was happening within the Tower behind them. She said a silent prayer for her husband.

* * *

Eleven of the twelve council members were still speaking of the coming days' troop heading to the Northern Border, one of their number obviously missing. Many had quite a bit to say, even though most of the details had already been decided. Aragorn tilted his head toward the window before any of them did, Jindal still talking.

"I still believe that we should send more of a force with the King," he was stating. "It would be best if we—"

Aragorn rose from his seat, concern on his face before he reached the window to look down upon the uppermost level. He could not tell features from this height, but it was clear that the guards were dragging three men in custody, and there was quite a rowdy crowd behind them, men and women, even children.

"My Lord?" asked Nardur, staring at Aragorn's back. Then they began to hear the shouting. Some of them rose from their chairs and came to the windows as well, staring out.

"What is going on?" asked Noldore, confused.

Aragorn shook his head. "There seems to be quite a commotion outside."

"Is that…is that _Vändir_?" asked Dintîr, pointing.

"And that looks like _Felof!_ " gasped Jindal. "We've been wondering where he was all morning! What in the name of—"

"I suggest we make our way down to find out," Aragorn said immediately, a sense of great foreboding over-taking him. As he turned from the window and headed for the stairs, eleven councilmen behind him, he sent up a few desperate prayers. By the time they reached the doors and the guards opened them for Aragorn, the crowd had gathered directly before Ecthelion, one-hundred to one-hundred fifty strong with more coming, guards at the front with three bound men before them.

"What is the meaning of this, Haneth?" asked Aragorn, taking in the sight before him. There were other soldiers, but Haneth was the highest rank of the men before him; it was right that he should speak. It was not only that one of the men was a councilman and the other two were former councilmen that surprised him; it was the state of them as well and the thought that they would be together. Gildion had blood down his front and a wound in his shoulder; Felof's face was a disaster, a clear broken nose and blood everywhere; Vändir was the only one who appeared unmarked, though he and Gildion were covered with stone-dust.

The whole crowd, which had been muttering beforehand fell instantly silent when the King spoke. Noldore gaped at the three of them bound, and most of the councilmen were speechless or made exclamations of their own as they came out onto the front steps behind and beside the King.

"My King Elessar," Haneth said, stepping forward from the crowd and touching his fist to his chest, "we were on guard at the fourth level when we heard raised voices and shouting. We came from the wall to find that these men were attacking Princess Enguina and the Lady Erumar."

"Attacking them?" Aragorn asked. The words had fallen out of his mouth before he could prevent them. He wanted to know what that meant; were Enguina and Erumar all right?

"Yes, my King. Upon the word of various citizens, these men were striking, slandering, and finally stoning them, right in the middle of the street."

Aragorn turned his head to look at the men after there were several gasps from the men behind him. " _Stoning—_?" His tongue stumbled over the word as his blood boiled through him. He felt the vein in his neck bulge and he adjusted his jaw to prevent himself from roaring. Instead, his voice was as soft as death. "The Princess and the Lady, where are they now?"

"The Houses, my King. I am sorry that I do not have a full report of the extent of their injuries," Haneth replied. "I do know that upon discovery, both of them were unable to be moved without being lifted. The Princess had lost consciousness and the Lady was wounded at the head. Lieutenant Ailan and Erosh carried them to the Houses; the Lieutenant stated that he would bring a full report as soon as he had received one from the Healers."

Aragorn checked himself again, such fire kindled in him that his eyes burned with a fury few of the Gondorians had ever seen. The entire front row of onlookers took a step away into their fellow men; the bound men could go nowhere, but even they did not look into his eyes. Enguina, unconscious? Erumar with a head wound? _Stoning!?_

 _Ilúvatar, what has been happening in my City?_

"And Etan!" someone called from the back of the crowd.

"Yes, my King," Haneth continued, looking down at the King's boots so he did not need to look at his face. "Etan the silversmith tried to stop them, and he is dead. He has been taken to the Houses as well."

"Where…" Aragorn collected himself to speak; he was so angry and horrified he could barely control the timbre of his voice. "Where are the witnesses to these events?"

"All of them are here, my Lord," answered Liakas, nodding. "They came with us so they could testify."

"My Lord, do you wish us to take these three men to the prison?"

" _No_." Aragorn looked down at them, at each man, his hands balling into fists. "No, I want them here, inside. Their sentencing will happen now, after we hear the tale in full." He looked over at Liakas. "Guardsman, will you go to the Houses and bring back whatever word you can? I must know the condition of the Princess and the Lady. We will wait upon your report."

"Of course, my Lord," he replied, hitting his fist to his chest. He immediately turned and another guard took his place, gripping Felof's arm. Aragorn watched him go for a moment.

Though he was _furiously_ angry, he was also quite afraid. What was the state of Enguina? She was unconscious, but what of the baby? Was Erumar all right? A string of prayers flowed through his mind. He had to trust that Arwen would be there for them until he could arrive to see for himself. Yes, he needed to know their condition, but this was beyond that. He was terrified for Enguina; the baby _had_ to be all right! _Ilúvatar, my god…give me strength for this!_ His worry, his fear, only fueled his fury, and his eyes darkened again as he looked down on them.

"Now, bring these three inside and we will hear from the witnesses."

It took nearly fifteen minutes to get everyone inside and in appropriate places to be seen and heard. The people of Gondor had not seen or been involved with a serious trial in many years; this was the first one they would experience, and this was the first time that the King had to deal with something so terrible, and some of them wanted the _blood_ of these men. Most of them had only seen the King upon his throne when hearing concerns as he did from time to time, or settling a dispute; never had they seen the King upon his throne dealing out judgment. Aragorn listened to some of their conversations as he sat upon the white throne, waiting for the final few witnesses to be brought forward. This was an _atrocity_ ; these men were an abomination of everything that the Reunited Kingdom stood for and their deeds should be punishable by death. Yes, the picture that even those conversations painted was not pretty. He steeled himself—he had to prepare for what these witnesses would say.

Aragorn held up his hand when everything seemed ready, his face the most serious it had ever been; a hush fell over the entire room as they hung on every word that came from his mouth.

"The first one to bear witness needs to step forward,' he said, and an old woman shuffled before the crowd, bowing to the King. He recognized her quite easily as he had seen her before on many occasions. "Tabien," he said, "will you tell nothing but the truth?"

"Yes," she said, in her gravelly voice.

"Then speak."

"My Lord, I 'eard raised voices outside my window near the wall. I looked out and saw the Princess bein' held by that man there," she pointed at Vändir. "The large man hit the Lady in the face, and that's when I left my window to get to the door. By the time I reached it, with my old legs, both the Princess and the Lady were agains' the wall and the guards 'ad arrived. There were rocks all around 'em. I didn't see any more, but as I was gettin' to the door there was much shoutin' outside."

"Is there anything else you saw?"

"The Lady was bein' held by that one, with the blood on 'is face," she said, pointing, and there was a lot of muttering within the crowd, especially among the councilmen.

"Thank you, Tabien," Aragorn said, then his gaze rose back to the guards. "Is there another witness to speak and give testimony?"

Sera stepped forward, Paden clinging to her leg, her own hand resting on her very large womb. "My Lord Elessar," she said, "I would give testimony for myself and the three older women who were seated near their homes on the street; they can't come to tell their story, but they saw what I saw."

"Sera," he said, "will you tell nothing but the truth?"

"I swear it," she said firmly.

"Then speak."

"I heard screaming from inside my home and ran onto the porch. The screaming was the Lady Erumar's; she was being held by Felof, by her arms and around the throat. Vändir and Gildion—" she paused, choking-up suddenly and covering her mouth, rubbing a hand along her own abdomen as though comforting her child. The movement was so familiar that Aragorn wanted to _strangle_ the three men who stood before him and watch the light leave their eyes. Instead, he sat still as a stone, except for his eyes which were as coals in his intense face, waiting for the rest of her words.

"Continue, my Lady, when you are ready," said Haneth from beside her.

She reached down and stroked the head of her own child. "The two men were throwing rocks at the Princess as she cowered by the wall, _stoning_ her, trying to kill her child." Some of the Gondorians who were standing around began gasping and muttering, horrified at the very thought, as some of them had not known the full story. "I tried to stop Gildion, but Felof shoved me out of the way. The Lady then broke free, wounded Felof and covered the Princess's body with her own, shielding her from any more rocks. I knew I couldn't stop them myself, so I started yelling.

"Etan, the silversmith, ran from the alley and grabbed Gildion's arm," she added, tears filling her eyes again. "Gildion clubbed him in the head with a rock and he fell down dead. That was when an archer on the wall shot Gildion, and Vändir tried to run away—"

Vändir sneered, muttering beneath his breath, "That's not what happened, you _bit—"_

 _"Silence_!" Aragorn shouted, getting to his feet, his eyes aflame. "Do not speak again out of turn," he stated, "or I will have you removed and you shall not speak in your own defense." He stood for another moment and resumed his seat, the only sound in the throne room people shifting uncomfortably.

Sera continued, "He tried to run, but the guards stopped him and took them all into custody."

"So every one of these men was involved. Were there any others?"

"I saw no one else."

"Sera, thank you for your testimony." Just as he finished speaking, Ailan appeared with Liakas behind. "Are there any more testimonies to be heard?"

"Gifar, my Lord Elessar," a young man said, stepping forward. "I would testify that what these women say is true. I saw the same from my grandfather's window."

"Thank you, Gifar."

As Gifar was speaking, Liakas and Ailan returned from the Houses. Aragorn wanted to hear their report immediately, but there were several other witnesses, even two guards from the wall, who stepped forward to claim the same, some telling more of the story, some less, though only one could say anything about the original argument—an accusation that the Lady Enguina did not deserve the child she had been given and that if the Queen was not pregnant, she did not belong so either. Aragorn was so incensed that he could barely speak for a full minute, simply staring at the old man who had spoken the words. Muttering was happening in the throne room before he was able to turn and nod towards Liakas.

"Guardsman, will you see these witnesses, especially the Lady Sera, home safely? They have been through enough today." The guard struck his chest with his fist again and turned to escort them out, holding Sera's arm as the crowd parted for them; they did not need to be present for the sentencing and were grateful to be heading out. Everyone else remained exactly as they had been; not one turned and left. The councilmen were shaking their heads, most of them appalled at the behavior of their colleagues and fellow Gondorians.

Aragorn then turned to Ailan. "Give me a report from the Houses, Lieutenant. Can you tell me of the condition of those who were under attack?"

Ailan stepped forward, lowering to one knee before the King, ignoring the men who stood nearby and the sea of onlookers. "King Elessar, the full report, the full extent of possible injuries is yet unknown," he answered in his deep voice. "I have a preliminary report given me by Master Healer Talf. May I proceed with that?"

"Please."

"Etan, the silversmith, was killed by a stone to the head," he began. "The Princess Enguina was still unconscious and had not yet woken, possibly in shock; she had suffered head trauma, several broken ribs, and bruising along her back and left hip and lower extremities. The Lady Erumar has suffered severe head trauma; she was conscious when I left, but barely coherent. She had a massive head wound, a broken right forearm, an injured right shoulder, and bruising along much of her back and legs, face and throat; most resulting from protecting the Princess against the wall, but some from clearly being held about the neck and struck forcefully across the face. The Healers were unsure of the stability of either woman's condition."

"And the child?" Aragorn's voice was fairly steady, but it had dropped into silent death range again. Ailan hesitated, but then continued.

"They were also unsure of the stability of the child's condition, though Master Talf remained positive. Both of them are to remain at the Houses until further notice, and until you give word, under guard. Erosh remained."

"That was a wise decision, Lieutenant," he said, nodding. "Thank you." Ailan stood and moved off to the side, watching every move the bound men made, his hand on his sword. Finally, Aragorn slowly turned his head toward the accused, setting his jaw for what seemed to be the thirty-fifth time.

"Do the accused have anything they wish to say?" Aragorn knew only too well that whatever they wanted to say would only allow them to spout more evil falsehoods and terrible comments. He had to let them speak, but only if it was relevant. "This will be your only chance to speak and you will tell nothing but the truth; if you do not, may Ilúvatar save you." Gildion and Vändir lifted their heads and glared at him, Felof kept his head down, too ashamed to see the angry faces of his fellow councilmen.

Gildion glared back into Aragorn's glowering face. "The Princess approached us on the street; we congratulated her on her pregnancy. Then we attempted to step back and when the Lady attacked Felof, I sought to protect—"

" _That's a filthy lie_!" someone shouted from the back of the throne room.

"I _saw_ him!"

"He grabbed 'er _first_!" Shouts rose up, to have him killed, but Aragorn held up his hand and silence reigned again. He stood, towering over the three of them.

"You were once councilmen," he began, his words, his voice full of venom. "You were once men entrusted to the welfare and care of this City, and of Gondor, of all of its citizens. There are _witnesses!_ " The last he shouted. "There are _testimonies of your cruel deeds!_ And yet you seek to lie even when confronted with the truth? Why would you dare attack these people? Who was the orchestrator of this plot? Which of you began it?" There was no answer to his question, but it was clear there were things the men wanted to say.

"That whore doesn't deserve to be pregnant!" shouted Vändir.

"Watch your tongue in the presence of the King!" Haneth shouted back, but Vändir continued over him.

" _Gondor_ needs an heir, as you damn-well know, Elessar! Take a look around you! Everyone here—"

"The words you are speaking give you no right to take the action you have," Aragorn interrupted. "What gave you the right to take a man's life? _What gives you the right to take the life of an unborn child?_ "

"She shouldn't be paradin' around our City like that!" Vändir snarled. "That child is a _waste_ —"

"That child is a priceless gift," Aragorn said at more gasping from the crowd. "How dare you attempt to speak lies before the people who you once swore to protect! How dare you speak such words before me, your King! How dare you even think that you could act in such a way and not pay a justified penalty?"

"Oh _spare_ us your _sentence_ , _Elessar!_ " spat Gildion, and Haneth, who stood directly beside him hammered the back of his shoulders with a fist, driving him to his knees.

"How _dare_ you speak to the King in such a way! _Silence_!"

"I am a councilman!" he spat from the stone floor. "I deserve _respect_ —"

"You were a councilman, now you are _nothing_ ," Aragorn said sternly from the dais. "You have no title, nor claim to any respect that title had shown you in the past; you forfeited all of it by the terrible deeds you committed in the past, and the more heinous and malicious deeds you have committed today. That is true for all three of you. These are some of the most pitiless and unmerciful acts Gondor has seen in ten years since the Great War; Gondorians hang their heads in _shame_ that these deeds were carried out by their once most respected and honored citizens. You are traitors to the ideals of this country and everything it has stood for. I am appalled and disgusted by what you have done."

A tremor of trepidation passed around the room.

The accused's sentencing was nigh.

"I am the King of Gondor and Arnor," Aragorn said, lifting his chin. "I have sought to make peace with other realms, and bring our cities to life again after the devastation of war. _You have brought war again to us by these great misdeeds._ I am Envinyatar, the Renewer; I came so that peace might come through me, yet you have sought to ruin and destroy that peace. Your deeds have spoken for you, now it is by my word alone that you will live or die. May Ilúvatar have mercy on your souls," he stated, his voice lethal and frightening, "for the mercy you have shown your victims, I will show to you.

"These are the deeds for which you stand accused and convicted by so many witnesses: first, for the murder of the silversmith, Etan; second, for attempting to murder the Princess of Ithilien and her unborn child by stoning; third, for physically assaulting an elf-maiden of Lothlórien and then attempting to murder her by stoning as well; and finally, for slandering both the Queen and the Princess in a most heinous and public manner. These are your crimes, and you shall face the full punishment for them.

"Felof, upon your conviction: you cast no stones, yet you nearly strangled and injured the Lady Erumar and both allowed and aided your accomplices in the stoning of the Princess, and then were too injured to act any longer. You will be sentenced to five days in the stocks, where you will be publically humiliated, your title of councilman stripped from you. After those five days, you will be dismissed from the City, never to enter again into its gates.

"Vändir, upon your conviction," Aragorn said, turning his head to stare the man down, "you attempted to murder an unborn child and the Princess of Ithilien, slandering her in an open way, spitting upon her, and stoning her before a group of witnesses. Life in the womb is _life_ , and is to be treated as such. This wicked deed shall not go unpunished, and as the full extent of injuries of the Princess is still unknown, if anything happens to the child in the meantime, your penance shall be sentenced and tried again. You also attempted the murder of the Lady of Lórien by stoning. Therefore, you will be sentenced to five days in the stocks where you will be publically humiliated. After those five days, you will spend the rest of your life in the prison below Rath Dínen, never to see the light of the streets of this City ever again, or to walk freely among our people. It is possible that this sentence may be overturned; upon the arrival of the Prince of Ithilien, I hereby pass full sentencing to him: he has the freedom to sentence you however he may wish, though this not be his realm. If he chooses, he may remove you from the City and do as he will with your life. I release any other sentence to him."

Aragorn turned at last to the final man; there was complete and total silence within the throne room, his gaze filled with every ounce of revulsion at the man and his horrific deed. "Gildion, upon your conviction: it was you who struck the Lady Erumar of Lórien with your fists; you slandered both her and the Princess, throwing stones upon both of them in an attempt to murder her, her unborn child, and the Lady Erumar, who you also wounded severely; and you took the life of another Gondorian, Etan, the silversmith. To attempt to take the life of another person is an _atrocity_ , to doit is punishable by death." He stared down, his voice softer, but no less final. "There is nothing to save you from the fate you have brought upon yourself; your choices have made you who you are. Therefore, Gildion, I sentence you to death. Your execution, which will be a much more merciful death than you had chosen for the Princess and her child, will take place tomorrow morning at dawn within the confines of the prison where you will be held overnight. You will be hanged by the neck until dead. For your crimes, you shall pay the ultimate price."

"My Lord, have mercy!" cried Felof suddenly, dropping to his knees and raising his hands to him. He did not lift his head, pressing his face to the stone. "My _wife_! My _family, my life,_ is here!" He cut off, sobbing, and Gildion also bowed low as he was already on his knees, but no sound came out of his throat.

Aragorn looked down upon them, and set his jaw. "Let Ilúvatar have mercy on your souls, and may you beg him, and him alone, for forgiveness.

"Lieutenants…take them away."


	24. Chapter 24

Hurrying into the Houses of Healing, Hildanir on her heels, Arwen was in full-horror mode. The Healers were in an uproar, scurrying from room to room. Even current patients were out of their rooms and in the hallways, trying to find out what had been happening within the City. It was Hilta weeping that frightened Arwen the most upon being directed to the correct hallway. The old woman gripped Arwen's arms and began sobbing; Arwen could not breathe, such was her anxiety.

"Good woman, tell us why you are crying!" Hildanir asked immediately. Arwen was so grateful for him speaking that she could have turned and kissed him. "Tell us not that their injuries were too great! Tell us not that the lady's child is—"

"No, no!" cried Hilta and Arwen gasped with breath, hands clutching her own breast, her knees weak. She felt Hildanir grasp her arm and hold her upright as Hilta continued, "But my Lady it shouldn't be! What'd _drive_ such men to do such unspeakable things? They were once good men! It's as though they've lost their minds! Oh, the Lady could lose the _child_ , she could! Such a terrible trauma!"

"Has she woken yet?" Arwen asked softly.

"She's just there, and not yet, which is even worse!" she cried, trying to wipe her eyes.

"Hildanir, will you please—"

"Of course, my Queen," he said, and he reached out, taking Hilta by the arm. "Here now, Madame Healer, come and sit down." Arwen immediately went into the room, which was quiet compared to the chaotic hallway. Her friend lay upon the bed, unmoving except for breath.

She hurried to Enguina's side and fell to her knees beside the bed, clutching her hand within her own. She stared into her face, the top of her head wrapped with a cloth. She was wearing a simple white shift and her undergarments; they had clearly removed her dress; her right arm terribly bruised from shoulder to elbow. Arwen covered her mouth with one hand and lowered her head to Enguina's hand. She, too, began to weep. " _Enguina, Enguina…_ "

 _Ilúvatar! Ilúvatar, I cry out to you! Please, I_ _ **beg**_ _you! Protect this baby! Protect this baby! You cannot allow these men to have hurt him! You must have shielded him with your power; you could not have let them hurt another child…no, not like this. You would not! You are too good! You are too good! Oh, Elbereth let that be true! Protect her! Wake her, Father! Bring her back and protect the life inside her! Oh, Lord where were you when this happened? Were you shielding her yourself? Were you covering her with your wings? Oh, god…oh…why would you let this happen?_

She was not sure how long she was in prayer at her bedside, but she heard sudden screaming come to her from the hallway. Arwen's head came up and she wiped tears from her face, noticing Cladien standing near the doorway to her room.

"What," she whispered still wiping her eyes, "what is her condition?"

"She has several broken ribs on her right side, my Lady," she replied in the same quiet voice. "Master Talf thinks the child is all right for now, nothing was punctured by her ribs as far as we know. We must wait to be certain the child is out of danger; she should remain here for several days. We do not yet know the full extent of her head injury, though it does not appear too terrible. She is bruised, and may likely have fractured her hip or leg; the Healers have been unable to determine that yet. They are—"

"Where is the Lady Erumar?"

" _Let_ _ **go!**_ " came a yell and then another strangled cry of pain from down the hall.

Arwen pressed her lips to Enguina's hand as Cladien paled. "I was told to come here and watch the Princess, my Queen. The other Lady is half-mad; her head wound is terrible and she keeps screaming suddenly and calling for the Princess."

"She cannot be easy unless she knows she is all right," Arwen said, taking to her feet. "Have they told her? They need to bring her to rest in here."

"I do not know, my Lady," Cladien said, muffed sounds continuing from down the hall.

"I will see to it," she said. "Tell me immediately if Enguina wakes." She fled out of her room and down the hall, squeezing between two healers to enter it. It was chaos inside; Talf stood near the bed behind Erumar, holding her right shoulder which appeared dislocated; it also appeared they had been making an attempt to stabilize her neck but it had not been working out very well. A young man was holding Erumar's legs together at the knees—clearly an attempt to prevent her from thrashing about. The elf's body was still trembling and she was sweating terribly, but they had turned her onto her side because at the moment she was retching awfully from the side of the bed, blood trailing down the side of her face and chest from the awful head wound.

Arwen lunged across the room. As Erumar stopped vomiting, Talf signaled to the Healers and they rolled her onto her back. She immediately thrust her upper body forward, but Talf had her broken right arm in his hand. Screaming, she collapsed back against the bed and then cried out Enguina's name.

"Wait! Wait!" cried Arwen, pushing a woman nearby out of the way. Talf raised his head at the sound of her voice.

"Lady Arwen! This is no place for—"

"She does not know what is happening!" she exclaimed, pushing forward to her bedside and reaching for her face. "Dear God, Talf, she cannot lie still because she is concerned for Enguina. Erumar! Erumar!" She placed her hands on her friend's forehead and leaned over the bed, holding her a bit with her upper body. "Erumar, Enguina is _safe_ ; she is here!"

"She _must_ lie still," Talf said. "I must set her arm."

"En…Engu… _Enguina!_ " Erumar cried out, gasping and rolling her head once in pain, the shoulder beneath Talf's left hand stabbing agony through her chest as he held her arm in his right.

"Shh, shh…we will take you to her," Arwen said, shaking her head. "You can see her, and then you can rest. Stay still, Erumar; lie still." Erumar's eyes tried to find her, but they were glassy and unfocused. Tears came to her eyes as Arwen saw her condition, her face, the wound on the side of her head. She turned to Talf. "Please, the only way she will be easy about this is to move her. You never should have separated them; she has to know that she is all right."

"She is in terrible pain and can barely understand anything we are telling her," Talf argued. "Her hearing, her sight, have been affected. She should be stabilized before she is moved."

"You will not be able to hold her. You will only injure her more," Arwen explained. "Please, I will stay here every moment with them together." Talf finally released Erumar's trembling arm and nodded to the men nearby.

With as much delicacy as they could, they lifted the injured elf and carried her to the bed opposite Enguina's in her room. As they laid her down, Arwen crouched down near her face, touching her skin to rouse her attention. "Erumar, look, there is Enguina, resting. She is going to be fine. You protected her; you saved her." Erumar's looked past her shoulder toward the bed where she was pointing and then her eyes shuddered closed.

"The…baby…" she choked out and tears came to Arwen's eyes as she moved behind the head of the bed to help hold her as Talf and the other Healers came into the room.

"The baby is going to be fine," she whispered soothingly. "You need to lie still now, all right? Just lie still. These people are going to take care of you."

Arwen leaned over her, placing her hands on either side of Erumar's head from the head of the bed, holding it straight down to her shoulders, the edges of her fingers brushing her collarbone. She laid her cheek against Erumar's head as Talf came to lay his hands on her dislocated shoulder. From her position, she could see the damage even more clearly, bruising all across Erumar's throat and face, down and around her shoulder beneath Talf's hands. One man came and stood near the bed, reaching down to hold Erumar's shoulder and leaning across her midsection. Her breathing became heavy, her body still trembling. The other took hold of her knees.

"You are _frightening_ her," Arwen whispered and she pressed her lips to Erumar's forehead. "Shh. Try to relax, Erumar.

"That cannot be helped," Talf said softly. "I am going to adjust her shoulder and then set the bone in her arm. Are you going to remain there?" Arwen nodded, rubbing her thumbs along Erumar's throat simply for comfort. "Prepare yourself, then, Lady Evenstar."

There was a tremendous pop and Erumar screamed in pain as her body resisted them, every one of the Healers holding on tightly to her. Agony, white-hot, seared through her arm and her brain, burning away thought of anything else. The pain grew even more impossibly intense as Talf began setting the bone in her arm. She tried to pull back, her head swimming but they were holding her so tightly that she could not writhe away. It only took a few minutes in this unbearable pain before her body simply could not withstand it anymore. Arwen felt her muscles go limp beneath her hands and tears once again come to her eyes. _Thank you, Ilúvatar…I could hardly bear that any longer and neither could she._

Finally, the bone was set and her arm wrapped with wooden staves to keep it straight; the men were dismissed and Cladien returned to help them remove Erumar's torn and stained dress. They also cleaned the wound on her head and wrapped it carefully, Talf looking into her eyes and shaking his head. Arwen was standing nearby instead of holding her and saw his motion.

"What is it?"

"She has a terrible head injury, my Lady; that is why I am concerned for the Princess. The Lady will be lucky if there is no lasting damage." He lifted his head and looked at one of the other women. "We need to turn her and see the damage her back has sustained."

They carefully rolled her over, finding her buttocks, back, and shoulders badly bruised but no broken skin. Talf appeared pleased with that. "Hot compresses will relieve the pain of these bruises and help them to begin healing. Let us put some under her as we had with the Princess before we lay her down." Cladien was eager to assist and they prepared them quite quickly so they could make her more comfortable. They laid her back down upon the heated towels and then wrapped her shoulder with cool cloths. Talf finally turned to Arwen after settling Erumar's arm into a sling and wrapping it tightly to her rib cage.

"She does not appear to have any other broken bones," he said. "I was worried about the bruising on her ribs and back, but I am more worried now about the Princess." He looked over to her. "I am worried that the reason she has not woken is that she was knocked out, but…I am worried that it is more severe."

"Perhaps she was not knocked out," Arwen replied softly. "A traumatic experience like this, the heat, being assaulted this way…she may have fainted. Let me keep watch on them both; I would not leave either one, so I must remain."

"If she wakes, call me immediately. We will do whatever we can to assess the state of the child and check her for any other trauma." Behind him, Arwen saw Hilta had attached two straps to the bed; one across Erumar's hips and the other across her chest. "We must prevent her from hurting herself any further," he said. "If she jars her head the wrong way, whatever lasting effects of the stone to her brain could become permanent."

Arwen swallowed. "I will keep my eyes on them." She ran a hand along Erumar's face and then turned back to Enguina. At least, though she was going to be in intense pain when she woke, Erumar was mostly out of danger. Enguina was the largest worry now. As all of the Healers cleared the room, Arwen took her place back at her side. This time, she sat upon the bed beside her, holding Enguina's hand to her cheek, and stroking her face. She was so wrapped up in her fervent, silent prayers, that she did not hear Hildanir step into the doorway. He cleared his throat and her head came up to look at him.

"My Lady," he said, bowing his head, "I came to let you know that there is word; the King is on his way."

"Thank you, Hildanir," she replied, brushing tears from her cheeks again.

"Hilta is all right now," he said softly. "But it appears that your friends are still in danger."

"Yes," she said, squeezing her eyes closed. "I do not know if you pray, Hildanir—"

"I do," he replied, straightening. "And I will." He bowed his head to her again and went back out into the hallway. Arwen lowered her head to Enguina's hand again.

"Enguina… _Enguina_ …" she whispered, her anxiety doubling. "Please…simply wake and tell me that you are all right. Oh, Ilúvatar…you cannot take this babe…not this one…not ever…" She reached down and laid her hand over Enguina's womb, tears running down her face. "Little one, are you all right? Your mother is here; she protected you from those evil men who tried to take your life. Why…I do not know. But she was there, and Erumar…you have so many who want you to be protected. Ilúvatar is with you, and you are safe…safe in His arms, safe inside your mother."

 _Oh…oh, Ilúvatar…please…please…_

She felt the caress in her troubled mind before he even entered the room, and when he finally did she was there to meet him, standing between the two beds as he took her in his arms. She was already crying, and Aragorn held her close to his heart. In the meantime, his eyes scanned the beds of Enguina first, then Erumar. He was absolutely seething; he had no idea how in the world he could hold her so gently and want to tear three men limb from limb at the same time. He pressed his lips to the top and side of her head as she held her face to his neck. He felt her fingers rub his tunic over his heart.

"You are—"

"No," he said, "not here, not now. Another time. I will tell you, I swear it…but not now. I need time to calm down." He laid his cheek against her hair. "Tell me about them. Is the child safe?"

"Talf thinks so," she murmured, her voice muffed by his tunic, "but she has not yet woken. She has broken ribs as well. Erumar's arm was broken and her concussion was so terrible she was vomiting earlier and struggling against the Healers. That was why they tied her down."

"A precaution," he said gently. "She will be all right."

Her tears were hot against his neck, his chest. "Oh, Aragorn, how did this happen?" she cried out. "Such an attack on our people, in our City! What _happened_?"

"The accused," he said, refusing to use their names, "were angry. They attacked Enguina and Erumar and… _began to stone them_." She heard him set his jaw near her temple. "Etan tried to stop them and was killed for his actions."

" _Stoned?_ " Arwen gasped, and she lifted her head from his neck to look him in the face. "They were…they were throwing _rocks_ at them?" He could not speak, such was the fury in his eyes.

 _I want to kill them, Arwen, right now…please…save me from this terrible wrath, this rage rage rage that I feel…I am burning up with it!_

She slipped her hands around the back of his neck, bringing his head down to hers, meeting foreheads with him. _Ilúvatar, give my husband peace! Take this burning anger he feels and temper it with peace; there is no more that he can do than what he has already done. Please shield him from this constant desire to bring them pain, and keep him focused on justice for their crimes. Oh and Father, Enguina…Enguina…please, please!_ She broke down into tears again.

 _Do not take this child_ , Aragorn prayed in her head. _Father, you cannot take their child. We have been through this; no one should suffer it!_

" _Arwen?_ "

Enguina's voice was soft as a mouse, but she had heard crying and would know those tears anywhere, having heard them so frequently over the past week. She tried to turn her head but her neck throbbed, and then she remembered what the hell had happened as pain cut across her lungs with every breath she breathed. The bed shifted around her, Aragorn on her left and Arwen on her right. Enguina's hand was making its way to her abdomen, and Arwen took her hand in her own and laid them together on the baby.

"Enguina—" Aragorn began, but Enguina cut across him.

"The baby…" she whispered, tears coming and choking her. " _The baby_ …"

"The baby is going to be fine," Arwen whispered, clasping her fingers through Enguina's as she felt movement beneath her hand. "Feel him, feel him…he is alive. Alive and well. He knows your voice! Feel him!" She began to cry again, knowing that their little one was safe was more important than anything in the world in that moment.

Enguina _could_ feel him, beneath her hand, in her womb, and she let her own tears come. She felt Aragorn's fingers on her forehead, touching very gently the tender parts of her skin beneath the wrap covering her head.

"We will have some pain-relieving tea made for you," Aragorn said softly. "You have several broken ribs, Enguina, try not to move. How does your head feel?"

She could not answer, but she reached for his hand, pulling it down to her face. She wanted so desperately to be held in that moment but she was unsure how to communicate it to them. Aragorn seemed to understand, as he leaned forward and carefully lifted her upper body in his arms and she fully broke down then. Her ribs were painful, but not as awful as the fear that took her; she could have lost her baby. She could have _lost_ him. _Thank you, Ilúvatar! Thank you!_ She felt Arwen's hand in her hair, gently against her back, as Aragorn held her against his chest. She felt his warm hands against her body and she suddenly realized what she wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment.

" _Legolas…_ " she cried, and she felt Aragorn hold her a little more tightly. " _I want Legolas…_ "

It was a useless plea, but it was what she wanted. She wanted Aragorn to be Legolas so desperately, her heart cried out for him. She wanted her great love to hold her and comfort her, as Aragorn had Arwen these past days. It had been too long since she had seen him, been at his side, when they had been inseparable. In this moment of pain, great fear, and great relief, she wanted him to be there with her…and he was not. That made her cry all the harder.

There was nothing Aragorn nor Arwen could say to comfort that need. Aragorn held her, and Arwen kept her hand in her hair. They both knew that she needed rest, that she needed pain relief, and that she needed to lie down. Most of all, they knew she needed their love, their comfort in this time of peril that she had faced. So they held her. At the moment, everything else could wait.

* * *

Legolas reached over and patted Glosbrethil's neck as he snorted. He had been patient enough over the past week since he had journeyed across Rohan on his return home; the last two days he had been pushing a bit more. They were little more than five leagues from his home; he could _sense_ it. They had spent so long in Ithilien riding about that he knew nearly every tree. Yesterday, they had crossed the Anduin around midday at a fairly tricky crossing, but he was an experienced rider and the rams followed him well. Radost was a different story and had given him quite the time of it, never having swam anything before. She nearly hauled Brethil under the water once, and Legolas had to release her in order to prevent the three of them from drowning. Instead, he had spent an hour training her to cross the river, an obstacle that since they accomplished, he did not ever see her having trouble with again.

No, today, he was rushing, keeping the four animals at a trot for nearly the last league—all were fit for it. They had, however, just come upon a shallow stream, and everyone needed a bit of a rest from the hot sun. Legolas had released the goats to graze as the horses were doing, and he was seated by the stream, taking in the sight of its beauty, and thinking about the dreaming he had been doing last night.

Ah…his lovely wife, Enguina. He wanted her in his arms _right now_. Was it terrible to want her so badly? He had been thinking of nothing else since he had woken before dawn this morning and readied his four animals so early. His dream about her last night could only be described as…inappropriate. Well, any normal person would have deemed it inappropriate; he simply told himself that it could not be because they were _married_. She was his wife! Why could he not dream of her? And this one had not come from Enguina's imagination—it had come from his own. He needed to ask someone who understood him, namely Aragorn, if it was normal to dream of one's wife as vividly as he had been. Perhaps it was worse when one was away from them for some time. He had dreamed of Enguina before, of course, but that was before they were wed…and his dreams were _nothing_ like this. If they had been, he would have appeared in the church every day _begging_ for the One's forgiveness for his impure thoughts!

He gasped suddenly, and gripped his ribs, feeling as though an arrow had pierced his flesh. He looked down and before he could even realize nothing was there, he heard Enguina's voice in his head, loud and clear, calling his name. It was more than desire this time though; this was a yearning for his presence, one of need; she was in pain. He shot to his feet, losing what he had been about to eat for lunch into the river. He never thought twice about it. Brethil's head shot up in his sudden panic. He had the two goats rounded up in less than thirty seconds and tethered to the cart again in less than two minutes.

He was on his way to snatch Radost's long rope when he suddenly realized that his ribcage was _not_ where a woman's womb would be. Pausing two feet from the pony, he laid his hand on his abdomen. He _reached_ to her as hard as he could, trying to find her mind, to comfort her, to get a sense of what she was feeling. The baby was not due for another three months, so she was not in premature labor, but his stomach flipped over when he realized that it was possible she could miscarry. _No, she would be doing nothing dangerous at the house. Erumar would never allow it._ But when he reached her, though he felt her pining for him, pain from her, he could not connect it to the child. _Thank Ilúvatar._

This thought, however, made him no less inclined to delay. His Guin was in pain, and she needed him. Could he cover nearly five leagues before nightfall? Brethil was not Shadowfax, nor Brego. How long could he ride in the darkness under a new moon? How much speed could he force out of the rams? If it were possible, he would make it happen. Now, more than ever, he felt he needed to be at her side.


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews! I promise the baby survives, Guest reviewer! :O) Glad ya'll are enjoying the story so far!

* * *

The Houses of Healing were _quiet_ at night, and Arwen was so glad for it. The day had been awful with Healers running to and fro and nearly never a moment's peace. Aragorn had returned less than an hour ago while Enguina had been awake again. Before he had left the first time, Legolas _had_ touched her; though it had made her cry all the more, it eventually brought her some peace, which all were thankful for. Upon drinking her tea and being inspected by Talf, the baby had been declared still healthy, though the Healers were demanding that she remain there at least two more days, to recover and have strict bed rest. It was a testament to how worried, how frightened Enguina had been that she never said a word against them.

Arwen ran her fingers through her hair as she lay asleep. Enguina's head and ribs had been aching, though she had tried to stay awake as long as possible, wanting Erumar to wake up so they could speak to one another, so she could thank her for her protection and sacrifice. Erumar, however, had not woken. Arwen took this to be a good thing; the longer Erumar slept before she woke, the longer her body would have to heal before she had to deal with the pain of what had happened. She did not want to see Erumar in intense pain like that _ever_ again; not if she did not have to.

Aragorn reentered the room; he had been down the hall visiting the family of Etan who had come to claim his body for burial. Arwen had wanted to go, but he bid her stay, just at the slightest possibility Erumar was to wake; she had stayed, but she knew it had been more than that. She was not troubled by it; she knew he would speak to her when he could. No, she was troubled by other things, most of them going on in her head.

He held two mugs of tea and he nodded to her. "Come and sit with me," he said, and she rose and went to his side. The two of them sat on the bench beneath the window seat where she took the mug he held for her out of his hand.

"Hildanir has gone for the evening?" she asked, cupping her hands around the warmth of the mug. She sat close to him, so close their knees were touching. For propriety's sake, she kept a reasonable distance, but if she had been sure they would not be bothered, she would be in his arms.

"He has, and tomorrow he will return to his post unless you are to travel in the City, then he will be here to meet you."

She looked into his face. "Why all this sudden protection?"

"There will be more when I have gone," he murmured. "I…" He hesitated, and then lifted a hand from his own mug to hold her chin within it. "Arwen, I should not be worried for your safety within these walls, but I am. I should not have had to worry for Enguina, for Erumar, and yet, look what happened today? Just as you said, in our City, they were attacked. No one is safe."

Her eyes were sad. "I know today has been weighing on you. Meeting with Etan's family…I do not know what your afternoon was like. You have not spoken of it."

He sighed heavily. "I want to tell you the truth, Arwen. Today I felt a vengeful King for the first time. So often I have been the peacekeeper, the one who mediates disputes." His voice was soft, and he felt her lay her hand over his. "Today I was the judge, and tomorrow…the executioner."

She was silent for a moment. He had to make tough decisions; he had to be the King the people needed, deserved. It would never be easy. "Tell me about your day. Speak to me of your anger at these men; speak to me of their trial. You need to talk; I am here to listen."

He glanced over at the door to make sure that he had closed it before he had come to her; he had. "There were a great many witnesses; there was no doubt about what they had done. I do not know how Felof came to be involved with those two; no one is speaking of it. I do not even know how Gildion and Vändir came to be together either. I suppose that two men who have lost their titles, two men like them, would be prone to gather together."

"I…" She shook her head. "Forgive me for interrupting."

"No, what were you about to say? Please."

She frowned. "I knew they were together not four days ago. The…the two of them waylaid me near the gates of Rath Dínen; they were together then and—"

"Why did you not tell me?" he asked, his face full of his concern. "Were they the reason you entered the Silent Street?" She nodded but did not speak. " _Damn them to the Halls of Morgoth_ ," he cursed, "Did they insult you?" He was getting angry, and she squeezed his hand. "Did they _touch_ you?"

"Peace, Aragorn," she whispered, her voice soothing. "Take it easy."

"Answer my questions."

His voice was firm; she understood that he was not angry with her, but he still harbored so much resentment and fury over what they had done to her then. She would not deny him the truth; not any more. "Yes," she answered, thinking of Vändir's hand on her abdomen. It made her skin crawl. She saw his jaw set, that familiar vein in his throat pulsing as blood rushed through him. _Fury_. Ilúvatar, she never wanted him angry with her. She set her mug down and raised her hand to stroke his cheek. "It is over now, beloved."

"It is _never_ over," he said, trying to rein in his rage. "Not with _them_ ; not with all of the things they have done in the past that could have destroyed our marriage. I wanted to kill them today after I saw Enguina and Erumar; you know I did. I wanted to strangle them with my bare hands. For the way they have hurt you, and for what they did today…there is no punishment that a human could devise that would have been fitting."

"Tell me what happened near the wall," she said, trying to divert his focus. "Enguina told me very little; the experience was so devastating, I do not think she can talk about it right now, and I do not think she remembers any of it clearly."

"From pieced-together accounts, the three of them approached Enguina and Erumar. They were angry because they were envious of the fact that she had a child and that…you did not. They thought it should have been you," he said bitterly as he watched her eyes close. "So they took out their anger on Enguina."

"Why must it always come down to this?" Arwen whispered. "They should never have come here. I wish they had never come; that Enguina had never had the idea to see me; that her letter had not been lost; that I could have gone to see her in Ithilien instead of them journeying here. None of this would have happened…"

"No, it would have," he said softly back. "It simply would have come to a head in a different way, perhaps even a different time…but at some point…it would have happened." She did not say anything, so he continued. "Erumar tried to defend Enguina, she was struck twice by Gildion; Enguina was thrown against the outer wall by Vändir who was the first to throw the stones." Arwen thought back to Gildion, how physically strong he had been, how hard he hit. Her face ached with sympathy as she remembered. Aragorn continued, "Erumar then broke Felof's nose and leapt to protect Enguina by covering her with her own body. Gildion and Vändir were throwing stones at the two of them, and when Etan came forward to stop them, Gildion struck him over the head with a rock, killing him instantly. After all the screaming, Ailan and his men came running and brought the accused to the Citadel, the victims here, and you word of them.

"Upon hearing everything that had happened…" He hesitated; how honest should he be? She held his hand tightly; she would not judge him, not she, who supported him in everything. "I sentenced them, Arwen. For assaulting them, for attempted murder on an unborn child," he choked on the words, "for attempted murder on them, and for killing an innocent man. Both Felof and Vändir have five days in the stocks. Felof will then be exiled, never again to return to Minas Tirith—I had a difficult meeting with his wife and children this afternoon. Vändir will never see the light of day after his time in the stocks; he will sit in prison for the remainder of his life. And…and Gildion will hang in the prison square at dawn."

If she was surprised, she did not appear to be. She leaned into him, finally, as he had been hoping she would, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him close. "I am relieved that these men will never hurt anyone ever again," she whispered. "You are so wise, Aragorn, yet you do not see it. These men needed someone to teach them right from wrong; though I am sorry that needed to be you, I am glad that you have been given the courage, the strength, to do it. You are a good, wise, and courageous King; one not afraid to take a stand against corruption. The people saw that today."

He knew her words were true; he saw the respect in the people's eyes as they left the throne room this morning, how many of them lingered to watch him walk out and bow to him, how even the council remained to stand at his side, to stand with him against these men who had sought to do such evil deeds. He knew.

"I am proud of you," she said, and he leaned his head back to look into her eyes.

"For what, beloved?"

"For admitting that you were so angry, but for keeping your personal feelings and any thought of them out of the proceedings of their case. For doing what was right, what was necessary, even when it was difficult. Oh, Aragorn…you are so fit to be King, and I love you for it." She finished softly, but fervently. _I love you so much._

"Thank you," he said softly, humbled by her words. She leaned forward and kissed him very gently, and his hands slipped around her waist, holding her as she was him. "Your words, as always, give me perspective, bring me hope. You have, for so long, been my guiding light."

"I still need you to be mine," she whispered honestly. "It has been a very long day, and I…have been thinking too much."

"Never a good sign," he teased. She lowered her face and rested her forehead against his chin and he kissed her skin. "What is it?"

"When…when do you leave?"

His heart fell; he barely wanted to think of it. "The day after next," he replied. This time his voice held no teasing and nearly no emotion except his sadness over not being at her side.

"Two days…" she murmured. _Dear Ilúvatar, that is all?_

"Be honest with me," he said. He wanted her to say what she had been thinking, wanted her to voice it aloud so that he could help her, them, so that he too could say what he felt he needed to say, what _should_ be said.

"I am…I am afraid of your leaving," she whispered. "I am afraid to be without you, now…when everything has been so hard for me…when this has happened to Enguina and Erumar…when I am still feeling so broken at times."

He reached over and gathered her into his arms, pulling her over gently into his lap and holding her so that he could look into her face as he held onto her. He could care less if the entire world walked in on them right now; he would still cuddle her close to him. Today had been awful, and he needed her just as much as she needed him.

"I am afraid, too," he said in the same tone of voice as her. "I am afraid of the same things, of leaving you. What if you have a dream and I cannot lie beside you and hold you until you fall asleep again? What if Nardur, or heaven forbid some other citizen says something incredibly wrong to you and I must put him or her in their place? To be without you at my side, as you have been for these past ten years, will be difficult."

She lowered her head to his shoulder, pressing her face into his neck as she had earlier today, breathing him in. "How did I live for over two and a half thousand years without you?" she said. "How did I never desire to share my life with someone, never realize I was missing something so important, until I met you? How is that even possible?"

He felt her press her lips to his throat and he sighed. "Heaven only knows," he replied, "but I am the luckiest man in the entire world to be the one that you chose." He tilted his head to let her kiss him beneath the chin and she did, knowing full well what he was letting her do. _Do not rile me up. This is not quite the place…nor the time._

He heard her chuckle. _You are the one who lifted your chin._ He turned his head and she pressed her lips directly below his ear. _And turned your head…_ He stretched his neck away from her as she lifted her hand from his chest to cup around his face, turning his mouth back to hers to kiss him gently.

"It is in these times," he whispered into her mouth, "that I rely most heavily on Ilúvatar. I do not want to leave your side. Not at all. Not ever."

"I am already relying on him so heavily," she murmured. "What is one more reason?" He rested his brow upon hers and met her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you," he said at the same time.

Something creaked, and both of them turned their heads at once toward the bed where Erumar lay on her back. Arwen slipped out of his lap and set her bare feet on the floor, moving over to see if she had woken. There was sweat across her face, her neck, and Arwen sat down beside her, Aragorn just over her shoulder.

"Erumar?" she asked softly. She knew that the elf was awake, and by the sight of her, it had been more than a few seconds. Aragorn reached down and touched his hand to her neck, cupping her face from her jawline to her ear.

"We have been worried about you," he told her gently. He glanced at Arwen. "She is much too hot, and she needs relief. I will get one of the Healers, can you—"

"Of course," she replied.

He bent over and kissed Erumar on the cheek. "Thank Ilúvatar you are all right." He straightened and turned for the door. Arwen replaced Aragorn's hand with her own.

"Erumar—"

"The baby," she tried to say. She opened her eyes and attempted to meet Arwen's, but instead swallowed hard, seeing double of her friend. She blinked a few times, but with the same result. "The _baby_ … _Enguina_ …" she said, and this time her voice was fairly clear. Her head was another story.

"The baby is fine, thanks to you," she said, stroking her cheek. "Enguina was awake and talking. She has a few broken ribs and some serious bruising, much like your own, but thankfully, that is all. You are sweating, Erumar. Are you only hot or—"

"In _pain_ ," she said, and a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. _Incredible pain_. Her entire right side ached terribly, and the pain firing through her shoulder, down her arm, her back, her neck was unbearable. She wanted to reach up and separate the offending limb from her body. She attempted to lift her left arm and Arwen caught her shoulder.

"No, no…they strapped you down, Erumar," she informed her gently. "I want to release you, but you must promise me that you are not going to move or try to rise. Your right arm is broken but has been set, and your shoulder was displaced. You have a terrible head injury."

"I knew that," she muttered, her words slurring. She tried to turn her head but stopped mid-move, an expression of pain on her face. " _Eru…_ that _hurts._ I could not get up if I wanted to… _everything_ hurts, and there are two of you…which cannot be good."

Arwen laughed softly, and Erumar gave half a smile. "No, that is not good. Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Arwen removed the blanket over her friend, and Erumar was glad that they were essentially alone in the room; she was not modestly dressed. The strap releasing across her hips felt good because it alleviated the pressure on her lower back which was bruised and painful. The strap releasing across her chest let her arm slide a little; that was _excruciating_.

" _Ah…_ " she gasped, " _ah…Arwen…put…put it back!_ " The muscles in her chest were so tight for a moment that she thought she was about to seize up, but Arwen laid her hand gently in the middle of her wounded shoulder and a bit of heat flooded her.

"Shh…it will stop; let your arm rest," she said softly. Erumar tried to breathe; as she did, she found that Arwen was right. The arm had settled correctly now and had slipped to a roar instead of a squeal. Painful as it was, it had been worse seconds ago. She let her eyes roll back and swallowed again. "Better?"

"A little," she whispered.

"They are on their way." Aragorn's voice sounded from over Arwen's shoulder, and Erumar tried to look at him as well. "They are going to have to tilt that neck of yours to drink," he said honestly.

"Oh…good…" she said humorlessly. "There are _three_ of Aragorn…oh, that is _not_ good…"

"Stop looking," he instructed her. "Keep your eyes closed before you make yourself ill. You do not want someone to have to try and turn you in this condition, do you?"

She paled and Arwen made a noise. " _Aragorn…_ " He reached down and tugged the sheet over her hips, leaving her legs exposed to get some air, but in an attempt to keep her more modest.

"Thank you," Erumar said, a little embarrassed, but as she could hardly move on her own, she could not worry about it. "She really is all right?"

"Yes," Arwen told her. "I wish she would wake up right now so she could talk to you."

"Be careful what you wish for," Erumar replied. "You would not want both of us to contend with." Aragorn chuckled under his breath, and Erumar raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"This must be what you would sound like if elves could be seriously affected by ale."

Arwen laughed softly as well, and Erumar rolled her eyes. "I do not like you at all right now."

"No, I am sure you do not," he admitted. "Oh, and here comes Talf." Erumar closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable.

It only took a few moments for Talf to assess what needed to be done with the pain relieving tea. Between Aragorn and himself, the two of them lifted her head carefully so she could drink. It was difficult enough with her neck in that position, but it was even harder with the strain it placed on her shoulder and neck. She struggled to keep from crying out loud.

In the meantime, behind her, Arwen rose and went to Enguina's bed to give the two men space to maneuver around Erumar. Enguina's head was tossing back and forth. Arwen knew immediately what she thought was happening; she knew Enguina was dreaming. Taking a seat beside her on the bed, she shook her shoulders gently. Perhaps Erumar was right; this was not the way she had wanted to awaken her friend.

"Enguina, wake up, dearest."

The elf blinked and groaned, swallowing hard at the anxiety on her friend's face; fear in her own that she tried to shake away. "Where…"

"The Houses of Healing," Arwen immediately said. "You were wounded and you need to lie still. You broke a few ribs, remember?"

"Ugh…how could I forget that," she mumbled as she felt Arwen's hand caress her stomach once, and then reach down and place Enguina's hand on it beneath hers.

"You were dreaming about _him_ …I know it," she told her gently. "What brought it upon you?"

Enguina thought about Vändir's hands on her abdomen and his words, 'I enjoy a pregnant woman.' Tears came to her eyes. "It was…it was Vändir by the wall. He touched me, touched the baby, and I…I froze. I was there once more," she whispered desperately, squeezing her eyes closed. Yet again, she wished with all her might for Legolas; oh, how she wanted him to hold her, to be at her side, to chase the bastard away once again!

"Oh, sweet one," Arwen whispered, holding her hand tightly, "I am…I am so sorry for what happened today. I am so sorry." She stared at her stomach, stared at the hand she was holding in hers.

Enguina shook her head slowly. "This was not your fault."

"You came here for me," she murmured, "and this is our City…and some madman—"

"Yes, _three_ madmen," she said. " _Not you._ Stop it now. Are you not carrying enough already?" Arwen hesitated, and then slowly nodded. "Good. As you have said many times before, we cannot help what we dream, so let it go…and thank you for noticing and waking me."

"We are here with you," she said softly, looking back into her eyes.

"Aragorn, too?"

"He is here. And Erumar is awake."

"She is?" she asked, turning her head, trying to half-sit up. "Let me see—"

"Stay down," Arwen reminded her, catching her shoulder. "You need your rest, and Erumar is indisposed drinking pain-killers at the moment. As soon as she is ready, the two of you can look at each other."

" _Look_ at each other?"

"That is about all you shall be able to do because you are not getting up," she said firmly.

"No…I suppose not," Enguina replied and Arwen's hand tightened on hers. "Sit back a little; I want to see her."

"Let Talf finish with her first," she urged. "I…think she would like her privacy for a few more moments."

"She is in pain." Arwen nodded. "She never likes people to see her that way; she tries to hide it, but she is not very good at it."

Behind them, Talf urged Erumar to get more rest and that she should not remain awake for long. Aragorn assured them that she would sleep. As Talf nodded and left, he reached down and wiped her face, sitting beside her hip on the end of the bed.

"The tea will help," he comforted her. The tears had slipped out when they had been moving her, and she gave a bit of a broken sigh.

"I hope so," she whispered back. He looked up and then smiled.

"Enguina is awake. Before you return to sleep, do you want to talk to her?" She tried to turn her head, but it was simply too much strain.

"Erumar, I can hardly see you!" called Enguina softly, and Erumar rolled her eyes as Aragorn smiled. "Where are you?"

"Enguina, I cannot turn my head right now," she replied. "Perhaps tomorrow morning."

"Then I shall have to speak without seeing you. Thank you…for saving our lives today." She meant every word. "I am so grateful for you. Ilúvatar knows that it could have been a thousand times worse than it was. I praise and thank Him for you."

"I am so thankful that you are all right. Arwen said you have broken ribs?"

"Yes," she replied. "But you fared much worse."

Erumar was silent a moment and then she said, "I would do it again."

"I know you would. If you could have taken every stone you would have."

"So would I," Arwen whispered, rubbing her hand along Enguina's abdomen as he maneuvered around in her womb. "We would all give our lives to be sure that your baby was safe."

"I know," Enguina stated. "I am so grateful." Erumar's eyes closed.

"She is fading quickly, Enguina," Aragorn said softly. "You may want to hurry with whatever you wish to say." Erumar attempted to crack an eye, but could not get it open; she did smile though.

"Stop teasing me."

Aragorn winced. "I will try, if it pleases you." Arwen laughed softly from across the room.

"I am…still traveling with you in two days," Erumar forced out. "It is two days, is it not?"

"Erumar, you cannot possibly!" cried Enguina.

"Everyone calm down," Arwen said softly. "Two days is a long time."

Aragorn and Enguina looked at her incredulously.

"'Two days is a—?' Are you _mad_?" asked Enguina.

"It is a possibility that Erumar could travel with her arm as it is," Arwen said. "That would be her choice. She can decide if she is well enough."

Enguina stared at her. "No, she cannot, Arwen. If _I_ am on bed rest, how much more should she be on? She was hit with far more rocks than me, and she has admitted she is not a very good rider."

"I think," Aragorn tried diplomatically, "that addressing this in the morning, when everyone is not completely exhausted would be—"

"Arwen," Enguina said, "I know you believe that Erumar should make her own choice, but this is a time when we should step in and tell her—"

"I have made my decision," Erumar said firmly. "I will be just fine in a day or so. I have been in pain before."

"Not like this," Aragorn said gently. "And it is not the pain that worries me, but the concussion. Erumar, you cannot even see correctly. But…as I said before, perhaps the morning would be best to talk about such things."

"I wish none of you would go," Enguina said softly, and Arwen stroked her cheek. "I do not want you to leave, not now…not when things are so…not when this happened. I want Legolas to be here, and he is not here yet. Perhaps you can wait until Legolas arrives?"

"This cannot wait," Aragorn said quietly, "or I would not go at all. Everything will be fine while I am away." He reached out and laid his hand on Erumar's head. "Is the pain fading?"

"From my head," she said but she winced and her speech was really beginning to slur now. "My arm still aches like a son of a—"

"I hate it when you curse," Enguina interrupted softly. "And you hardly ever do."

Erumar laughed, but Aragorn could tell that she was so exhausted she was nearly out as it was. "Oh, I know some beauties. Haldir was the worst." Enguina giggled.

"He was, was he not? He swore sometimes as though he was a pirate."

"I do not think Thranduil ever swears," she muttered. "I cannot imagine him ever needing to. One look from those icy eyes and the world would freeze over instantly."

Aragorn glanced over at Arwen and the two of them shared a little grin; perhaps it should not have been funny, but it was. "What the hell is she saying over there?" Enguina said with a laugh. "Does she even know?"

"I think you need to rest, Erumar," Aragorn said with a chuckle.

"Mmm," she said, and he knew there must have been a sleeping draught in the tea as well. She fought to keep her eyes open. "So…handsome…"

"Yes," he said shaking his head, "I know he is. Good night, Erumar."

It only took a few seconds before Erumar was out and Enguina burst out laughing, and then clutched her ribs. "Oh, not a good idea…but that was so funny!"

"I think she may have been talking about you," Arwen said, raising an eyebrow at Aragorn.

"Well, if she was, her comment is still true." He gave Arwen another little smile and then he nodded his head toward Erumar. "I am going to work on her arm and shoulder for a little while," he added, beginning to remove the sling on her arm very carefully. "I am going to try and make it a little better at least. Perhaps it will help her when traveling."

"That would make it easier on her for riding," Enguina stated, but she stared at him. "You can mend bone?"

"Not…as well as I would like," he admitted. "It would take more strength than I have, and more days. But I think I can make the two of you more comfortable."

She rubbed a hand on her ribs. "That would be wonderful," she said honestly, "because it hurts to breathe right now."

He gave her a little smile. "I will try to make it so that you can breathe easily come morning."

"You need your rest, too."

"I can rest tomorrow," he said, and he turned his attention then to Erumar's arm, which was so bruised beneath the covering that it looked as though her skin had turned purple.

Enguina cringed and looked up at Arwen, who was studying her husband. "Has he always been that way? Will he always be?"

"Yes," Arwen confessed, "since I have known him. He gives where he can; I would have him no other way. If he was anything less than what he is…I would not know him. He would be as a stranger to all of us." She looked down and smiled at Enguina. "I hope you dream a good dream of Legolas tonight," she said, "not one as you were dreaming."

Enguina sighed. "At least it had not gone very far before you woke me," she said. "Are you…will the two of you be staying here tonight?"

"Of course," she told her. "We are not leaving tonight."

"I hope you will tomorrow," Enguina said, closing her eyes. "You should so that you can be alone." Arwen looked down into her face. "I know I wanted time alone with Legolas before he journeyed. I would never tell you that was wrong."

"Let us worry about one day at a time, Enguina," Arwen replied softly. Though she appreciated the sentiment, she did not even want to _think_ about Aragorn's leaving in one more day. "Tomorrow has enough troubles of its own."


	26. Chapter 26

Nardur knocked gently on Ethring's door, thankful that the man's home was on a quiet street where no one would even bother to look out their windows. It was morning and the Council was not in session today, so that gave him some time to discuss a few matters with him. Yesterday had been a complete disaster in all sense of the word.

"Nardur?" questioned Ethring as he opened the door. "Come in, my friend." He nodded, stepping inside.

"Is your wife at home? I would not want to intrude." Ethring shook his head.

"No, she went out to get a few things for supper this evening. Something special, I suppose; I am headed for war tomorrow."

Nardur nodded. "No one thanks you for the sacrifice more than me."

Ethring chuckled as he extended his hand for Nardur to sit at the table. "My wife certainly does not thank _you_. Though the men who are journeying have the day off, so…perhaps she does."

Nardur smiled momentarily, but as he took his seat, he frowned. "Yesterday was…a very long day. Do you know of everything that took place?"

"I know that Gildion was executed at dawn," he said stiffly, and his eyes darkened. "I will also admit that my wife and I took two half-rotten tomatoes with us this morning when we went for breakfast so that we could pass the stocks on our way back. It was shamefully done."

"Indeed," Nardur agreed. "I would not wish death on an unborn child and his mother. I cannot imagine what possessed those two to do such a terrible thing. Slandering in the street is neither here nor there, though one must be careful what they say publicly; there is no excuse for a stoning. That sort of punishment is saved for the worst of the worst; neither one of them deserved that. Thankfully, both of them survived with minor injuries."

"I would not call several broken bones _minor_ ," added Ethring, shaking his head. "Those men deserve to be humiliated; there were many men jeering when I was there. My wife hit Vändir square in the face." His voice was proud when he said it, and Nardur pursed his lips.

"I would not get so holier-than-thou, if I were you. Not after the request I have of you."

Ethring let out a long sigh. "So…this is the time when we shall see the stocks ourselves. No wonder you came today and not tomorrow. What is it?"

"No, no," he replied. "This is a mission for the long journey."

Ethring raised his eyebrows. "Oh? What in the world could you possibly have for me to do while riding on horseback for a month?"

"Ethring," Nardur said, leaning back in his chair, "I have spent a lot of time thinking and coming up with fool ideas in my head within the last three weeks. I have spoken secretly with more apothecaries, herbalists, and even what I would consider a witch than you should even care to hear."

"Where did you find a—"

"Never you mind," he stated firmly. "So, I have come up with a plan that would do Gondor an excellent amount of good…but it may cause us to make some very tough sacrifices."

"We knew that would be true," Ethring said simply, though seriously. "I have prepared myself to do what must be done to secure the future of the Gondorian throne within reason, Nardur."

The councilman reached across the table and took Ethring's arm, clasping it tight. "You are a man after my own heart. For the glory of Gondor preserved."

"Yes," he agreed. "What is the task?"

"You were the one who told me of the elf who was traveling with Enguina; do you recall her? The Lady Erumar?"

"Of course," he replied. "I would not forget her. Elves are difficult to get out of the mind; their beauty is beyond compare."

"Yes. Well, I heard that she was to be traveling with your troop and the King to Eryn Lasgalen. She was to make the journey with you."

"Is that still true?" he asked, incredulous. "She was injured quite badly in the attack yesterday."

"Elves are faster healers than mortals, though I believe that the King is doing everything in his power to help the Healers at the moment. I am holding out hope that she will travel with you, as I have a purpose for her."

"A purpose?" he asked. "What sort of purpose?"

"Ethring, what must be done, in this situation, for Elessar to have an heir?" he asked, tapping the table. "You said it yourself not long ago, when you made the statement in private that the Queen was barren."

"I told you that you would have to…oh…that you would have to find someone else," he said, nodding knowingly. "I see…that could…that is very interesting, Nardur. She is dark-haired and Elvish as well…it would be very difficult for any person to tell the child was not the Evenstar's."

"The Lady Erumar would be a perfect substitute, a perfect mistress for the King. Not only is she ideally placed for it, heading on a long journey with him, but he also knows her personally. She is the perfect candidate, her sole purpose to bear him a child." Ethring was nodding in agreement. Nardur then cleared his throat. "Now, we know the King will not willingly choose to lie with her on his own."

"That is true. He has already refused one mistress, and he will certainly refuse another, even if she is as beautiful and as personal of a friend as the Lady Erumar. I take it that you have lost hope in speaking to the Queen of giving her husband the freedom to take a—"

"Even if she did," he interrupted quietly, "he would not do it. The King sees himself as morally upright; he would never betray his wife, even if he must to protect Gondor. This is one situation where if Gondor were to be falling in pieces about him, he would do nothing but stand by and watch." He shook his head. "No…this is where you come in."

"You must be _joking_ , Nardur," Ethring scoffed. "There is nothing I could possibly say to either one of them that would bring them together. Even if the Lady finds Elessar appealing in some way, I can almost guarantee, knowing what I have seen of her, that she would _never_ touch him."

"That is not your duty," he said, and he took a small sack out of the inside of his vest, placing it upon the table between them. "This…contains everything you need."

Ethring stared at it, but did not reach to take it. He noticed that Nardur was now whispering. "What is it? And what am I to do with it?"

"It is an extremely powerful aphrodisiac," he replied. Ethring raised his eyebrows and gave a smirk; for some reason, it irritated Nardur that the man was not being as serious as he should be.

"As in, I should try some on my wife tonight and see what happens?"

"I would not try this one on your wife," Nardur said, glaring at him. "I would hate to see her falling all over the men of the City. A bit suspicious, do you not think?"

Ethring looked at the little bag. "It is that potent?"

" _If_ the sorceress I obtained if from is real, which may or may not be the case, this drug should have the two of them falling all over one another in a matter of moments, whether they know one another or if they were two complete strangers. It overrides every possible inhibition and causes attraction; all-consuming and uncontainable passion. The witch said she has never seen anyone overcome it. To me, that is a sealed contract. The King and the Lady should be lying with one another in a matter of minutes, never mind hours."

"So if my wife took it, she would be all over the first man she sees?"

"Well, yes," he said, "therefore, she would not only run to you to fulfill her desires, she will find fulfillment in whoever you set her on."

"Set her on? That would be the King."

"Yes."

"How is it taken? Drink?"

"The witch said it could be taken in drink, but the fastest, most powerful way is to have her inhale it; makes the brain nearly go mad with desire. But it also makes the person taking it open to suggestion."

"So I can tell her what to do?" he asked. This drug was almost too good to be true. "This will not be near so difficult, Nardur."

"I do not know how well that part is going to work," he admitted. "I am not sure how potent I believe this is either. My only caution is to be careful."

"I can overpower her easily enough and force her to take it," he said. "An inhalant will make that very easy. But the King…he must also take it? I will not be able to do that to him."

"Yes," Nardur admitted, "the King must also consume it, otherwise…he will not be susceptible to her charms; he would not look twice at her when he is committed to his wife, and he would more than likely hurt her before he would give in. But you will have to test it somehow first; I still would not advise using your wife, but if you wish to, who am I to stop you? Though I would think it would be easier to have the King drink it; as you said, it would be extremely difficult to overpower him. You will have to send her to him, not him to her. It would make more sense."

"I will…handle it," Ethring said, nodding. He lifted his chin, firm. "I can do this, Nardur. I will not fail."

"Ethring, you…you do realize that the minute you do this, there is no going back? There would be no possible way that you are not going to be caught somehow? Unless you disguise yourself, she will remember you when she comes out from the potency of the drug. There will be no mistaking what happened; when that happens, there will be consequences."

"For the glory of Gondor, Nardur," he said firmly, slipping the powdered substance into a pouch on his belt, "I will accept the consequences. I know that what I am doing is essentially forcing him to break his marital vows and commit adultery." He sighed. "If a man is to commit adultery, it should be because he chooses, even if it is wrong. Though, Elessar is King. The same law does not apply to him as it does to common men."

"It does," Nardur said, "but there can be no argument about this. It must be done; and we who know what is best for Gondor must take matters into our own hands."

"You are sure that this will work? You are certain that Lady Erumar will become with child?"

Nardur sighed. "As you said before, Ethring, is it possible to completely know a woman's cycle? Of course not, however, on this we agree: we have a better chance with her than in our present circumstances. We know the Lady in question has given birth before. The witch's advice was that by the time you arrive at the northern border, you should have an idea of when you should act. Apply the situation of your own wife to her, Ethring…when would you use such a thing on her if you wanted to have a child?"

He nodded. "I will have more than enough time to study her, and I have been married long enough to have some idea of what I am watching for. I will try to use my best judgment."

Nardur looked at him with much respect. "If I could be there, with you, taking charge of this…I would. But this is the best time; it is good for Elessar to be away from his wife. When he beds her, when it takes, she will bear him a child."

Ethring nodded. "Perhaps we can send the Queen away for a time to meet him. Perhaps we can make it appear as though the child was hers."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "We will have to wait and see. Ethring, this is a tremendous sacrifice. I know it will be challenging, but it _is_ for the good of Gondor."

"Most definitely," he agreed. "Do not worry, Nardur. I will do everything I possibly can to make this happen, to help Gondor."

"I wish you all the best," Nardur said, "and I wish you a safe journey. I hope that whatever fighting you do encounter with the orcs will be short and easily handled."

"We have the King with us," Ethring stated with a smile. "Nothing is going to go wrong."

* * *

It was ten o'clock in the morning when Legolas rode across the field leading to their little glen and their home. He had been unable to drag the animals about in the dark last night for too long, so he had no choice but to let them rest and spend a sleepless night in the middle of the woods, staring at the stars, counting the trees around him, counting the golden hairs on an imaginary Guin's head…yes, even _that_ did not help him. He simply lay there, yearning to be at her side. Rising early, they had set out and made good time all morning. He knew just before they had reached the glade; the air was full of that sweet scent he had come to associate with his little patch of heaven. And he could call it nothing but. Everything that he loved was right here.

Trotting through the bright, sunny glade, even Glosbrethil was eager when he saw the barn that he called home. He whinnied loudly, Radost echoing it even though she probably did not know why. Instead of taking them directly to the paddock, he leapt down from the saddle as he neared their hitching post. He looped Brethil's reins over and the goat's lead and then rubbed the grey's neck hard.

"I _swear_ that I will return in five minutes or less. I will not leave all of you standing here for long, but I _must_ see Guin first." He felt terribly guilty, seeing how incredibly sweaty Brethil was, but the horse nickered and he suddenly took off for the house, leaping onto the porch and throwing open the door.

"Guin!" he called. He hurried through the sitting room and into the kitchen…and then into the dining room…then down the hall, checking every guest room and every room until reaching their bedroom. He stood in the hallway, staring inside the completed nursery, which Enguina and Erumar must have finished in the time he had been away. It distracted him for a moment from his very disturbed thoughts. Why was the House empty? Where was his wife? Where was Erumar?

"Guin?" he asked to the empty hall. "What is going on here?"

He was confused. Turning, about he walked back, checking every room just as he had as he came in, but this time, his eyes took in more details than if there were people in them. The house looked as though it had not been lived in for a month. How was that even possible? As he came out onto the porch, he suddenly realized that there had been no horse who had replied to Brethil's whinny. No doubt Lómë would have, excited to see him. No…the horses were gone. What…did that mean?

He was actually quite afraid what that meant, and he did not even wish to think about it. He turned and went inside again, this time determined to figure out where they had gone and what they were doing. Was it possible they were playing a trick on him? Was it possible they had gone to visit their neighbors? But if they had, why—

Then he saw it. There on the table was a letter addressed to him and sitting in plain sight. He reached over and snatched it up, tearing through it so fast with his eyes that he had to stop after the first few lines and read it again because he could understand nothing of what she had written.

 _Dearest Husband,_

 _I write to you, terribly missing you. It has been so long since my days have been filled with you, that our bed has been warmed by your body beside mine, that your words have reminded me of our love for one another. I have been alone with my thoughts this past month, and it has been difficult for me. Erumar keeps me company of course, but she cannot fill the hole that is so obvious in my life, the void that is desperate at times for you._

 _My love, you know that before your journey, I sent a letter to Arwen, telling her of my joy that we were with child. I still have not heard from her. More than anything aside from you being at my side, I want her to know that we have been so blessed by Ilúvatar. I have convinced Erumar to journey with me to Minas Tirith. I can see that look on your face right now. I know I should not be! I know I should be waiting for you! But I cannot. I have such a desire to see her, to share our joy with her that I cannot wait. Erumar told me to tell you that she had nothing to do with my decision to go; she is right, of course. You know this was all my choice and stubbornness._

 _I love you so much! I hope you come home soon and receive this letter. Erumar and I will be waiting for you in Minas Tirith. I cannot wait for you to come and hold me in your arms again and whisper sweet words to our little one. She will know your voice soon, and she is moving! Come to Minas Tirith! I love you!_

 _And please…do not be too angry with me._

 _Love forever,_

 _Your wife_

And then in even smaller, closer script that was clearly Erumar's:

 _Legolas, I really could not stop her…she wanted so badly to go. What would you have done? Made her stay? She threatened to go on her own. What was I to do? I am so sorry! I tried to make her understand that it was not a good idea, that we did not travel with you in the first place because she was pregnant…but she gave me all these perfect reasons, such as a short journey and that Arwen really should know and…who was I to argue? Forgive me, please._

Legolas groaned aloud and sank to the kitchen floor, resting his head on his knees. He wanted to hold her in his arms _now_! Not this little note! His frustration was astounding; he had rushed to get here, feeling her need for him, and now he could not even hold her. There was no chance he could journey to Minas Tirith right this moment. He would need at least a few days to give out the things Gimli had given him and reorganize for yet _another_ journey and be sure Radost would be taken care of while he was away. He had many things to think of!

 _Why, Guin? Why could you simply not be here? Erumar, what were you thinking? My wife is nearly seven months, heavy with child, and you let her travel to Minas Tirith? Are you both mad?_ But no, he could not be angry with either one of them. How could he, when he wanted to see her so badly? No, this was simply pure frustration.

There was absolutely no use for sitting around there on the floor except a serious moment of pouting. Instead of doing that, he took time to pray for her, that Ilúvatar would keep her safe and would clearly comfort her for him, as he could not get there as soon as he would like. Then, after picking himself up, he headed out to get his beasts of burden into the pasture and unload and sort all of the gifts from Gimli's kin. His reunion with Enguina would simply have to wait a little longer.

* * *

When Erumar awoke, she could hear Arwen and Enguina laughing on the other side of the room. Her arm was sore, but her shoulder was not so terrible, and she felt an incredible need to sit up. Knowing her head was probably not in the best of conditions, she turned it slowly and blinked several times, trying to clear her eyes. Her vision was blurry at best, but at least there was only one Arwen and one Enguina, of that she could be thankful for. She listened to them talking before she spoke.

Enguina giggled. "You know, I was glad that Gimli put down the stave. I thought for sure he was going to hit Thranduil with it that day."

"Tempers were flaring," Arwen added with a smile.

"Yes, Erumar's intervention saved the day, I suppose, though they were friends again in an hour. It was an awkward hour though," she said. "I always thought that I would never see anyone more frightening that Legolas when he was angry. Thranduil was…much more frightening."

"Oh, most definitely," she agreed. "You can barely imagine how frightening he can truly be. He gets so quiet…scary."

"Are you speaking of Thranduil now or Aragorn?"

"Erumar!" cried Enguina, turning immediately to look at her. "You are awake!" Arwen rose as Enguina was not allowed, but she was at least sitting up, Erumar noticed, and the bandage around her head had been removed. "How long have you been up?" she asked suspiciously, and Erumar raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Oh…I…was wondering how much you heard of what I said," she said sheepishly.

Erumar sighed. "Nothing at all. Something about Thranduil and Gimli."

"Oh, good."

Arwen rolled her eyes and took a seat next to her. "How are you feeling?"

"I _was_ going to say not bad, but—"

"Oh no, it was nothing about you and Thranduil!" Enguina cried, putting out her hand. "I promise."

"Why would she say anything like that _behind_ your back when she can say it to your face?" Arwen asked simply, and Erumar smiled.

"Arwen do not say things like that!" groaned Enguina. "That is not what happened at all."

"Really now," Arwen said, encouraging Erumar to speak, "how _are_ you feeling?"

"My vision is still a little blurry and my arm aches; my shoulder feels better this morning though." Arwen smiled and Enguina laughed; Erumar simply looked at them, confused. "What?"

"Dearest," Arwen replied, "you slept through the breakfast hour. We have just had lunch."

Erumar blinked. "A sleeping draught?" Enguina nodded with a giggle on her lips. Erumar closed her eyes, moaning. "What did I say that had the two of you in stitches? Come now, what was it?"

"I will never tell," Arwen said honestly. "You cannot be held to what you said last night."

"Do you even remember being awake?" Enguina asked, and Erumar sighed, her forehead crinkling as she tried to remember.

"Yes," she said, hesitating, "I remember that I spoke to you. And I told Aragorn that I was still going with him tomorrow. After that…it is hazy."

"That was when you began saying some very humorous things," Enguina filled-in for her. "I do not think I could tell you half of them, but you were definitely muttering in your sleep."

"Whatever I said, I did not mean it," she said flatly. "Please do not tell me I said anything about—"

"Thranduil?" Enguina supplied innocently. "Not one word."

Erumar glared at her. "You are _mean_."

"No I am not!" she cried with a giggle. "Come now, if I said things about Legolas in my sleep you would make fun of me."

"I have not made fun of you," she replied, and Arwen looked over to Enguina with raised eyebrows as Enguina stared at her with her mouth open. "And you have a relationship with Legolas, whereas I have none with Thranduil. There is quite a difference there."

Enguina stared at her and began to blush. "I… _have_ said things about Legolas in my sleep?"

"I told you I will not make fun of you."

"But what have I said?" Enguina pleaded. "Now I want to know!"

Arwen laughed. "Oh, this is priceless. Let me get you some lunch, Erumar, and a Healer to help me sit you up more easily. Be back in a moment." Arwen left the room and Enguina crossed her arms, staring at her friend.

"I demand you tell me what I said."

"I told you," Erumar stated, "I would not tease you about it."

"Do not tease me then, but tell me!" she said, her face brightening with embarrassment. "Erumar, please, I need to know if I should not be around other people when I am sleeping!"

"I would say most of the evenings you should not worry, but there was one…when we first arrived that I…I felt as though I was…" she blushed saying the words, "I felt I was observing something I should not…something so private should be kept private. You begged me to tell you." She added the last words quickly, seeing the look on Enguina's face.

"Forgive me," Enguina said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "It is one thing to tease about the dreams; it is another for you to innocently observe one. I should…I will…"

"Enguina, it was a dream," Erumar stated. "It made me uncomfortable because of what I heard that I tried to block out. And then you woke and…"

"Bathed," Enguina said. "That was the night I had to bathe. Oh, that dream…" She covered her mouth, shaking her head, unable to finish. "Forgive me."

"I am not going to forgive you for a dream, please," Erumar scoffed. "Do not be ridiculous. You _should_ be dreaming about Legolas and not…nasty things."

"Yes, but my dreams should not offend you or make you…never mind." She looked away, thoughtlessly rubbing her abdomen.

Erumar knew exactly what she had been going to say and was glad that she refrained from speaking of it aloud. She had been without Haldir for ten years; she had been living with Enguina for the last four. Was she jealous of what Enguina had found that she no longer…well, she could admit to herself that she had _never_ had the passion in her relationship with Haldir that Enguina had with Legolas. Though she would never say that aloud; not now especially. No, it was awkward to speak of Haldir that way, and Enguina would ask questions or speak of things that she could not. Instead, she let it go.

"How are your ribs?" she asked and Enguina nodded.

"Not terrible. The Healers want me to stay until tomorrow morning. I have been up a few times for feminine things," she said rolling her eyes, "but otherwise, they want me to stay on bed rest for a few more days. To be sure."

"They are wise," Erumar said. "Enguina…I am worried about you going back out into the City with those men out there. I do not think—"

"Oh, no! We…need not worry about that," she interrupted her. "No, I do not think we will see any of them ever again."

Arwen reentered with Hilta just as Erumar was going to ask her what she meant. Instead, she turned her head to look at the Healer. "Good morning, Hilta."

"Well, if it isn't the reasonable one," the old woman joked with a smile, and Enguina rolled her eyes. "Glad to see you're awake. How's the head?"

"Better," she replied. "I would like to sit up, if I can."

"Well, we can try it. I need to take a look at your back anyway, but you might be in pain sitting up, my Lady."

"I would like to try," she said again. Hilta came over and removed the blanket, helping her up into a sitting position. She studied her back and then, nodding, put some pillows behind her to keep her upright and cushion her back.

"Well, how's it feel?"

"Uncomfortable," she admitted, "but I want to stay up." Her head was spinning a little, but she needed to do this; it would pass with more time. She had not even one day before she rode out of here, and she needed to reacquaint herself with being seated.

"How's your shoulder? Your arm?"

"The arm hurts, but the shoulder feels fairly well."

"Let me get you some pain relief for your arm," she said. "The Queen has your lunch."

"Thank you, Hilta," she said. "You are so kind."

She turned and stopped at Enguina's bed. "And you? What're you up to?"

Enguina shook her head. "Nothing, I promise. I am sitting here, doing exactly what I am told, just as you asked."

"Good girl," she said. "Now, d'you need anything?"

"No, thank you." Hilta nodded her head and went out. Arwen sat down beside Erumar and helped her with the tray of eggs and toast. She opted for the toast; something nearly tasteless would be better than eggs on her stomach, especially with the way her head was still spinning at the moment.

"Your hands are shaking a little," Arwen mentioned, and Enguina watched them as well.

"That is because my head is hurting," she said softly. "I am trying to overcome it. Let me be, please? Let me try."

Arwen nodded. "Please, let me know if it becomes too much and I will help you lie back down." She reached over and tried to help steady her hand.

"Arwen, I am fine," she reassured her and her friend let go. "Thank you, but really I can do this."

Enguina sighed. "You are worse than I am."

"A thousand times," she admitted.

"I cannot stop thinking about how glad I am that you are both recovering," Arwen said softly, looking at Erumar's arm before glancing back towards Enguina. "You are not well yet, but you are recovering which is the best I could ever have hoped for right now."

"As I said yesterday," Enguina added, "it might have been much worse. Thank heaven the guards came."

"Why will we not have to worry for them? Are the three men gone?"

"Yes," Enguina said. "One will be in exile, one in prison, and one has already been executed."

Erumar looked into Arwen's face. "Is that true?"

"Gildion killed a man," Arwen said, meeting her eyes.

"Elbereth," she breathed, "why would he do such a thing?"

"Why would they stone the two of you?" she asked, both rhetorical questions. "There can never be understanding when these men are involved. Ilúvatar protected you both."

Erumar nodded and Enguina grinned, attempting to move on. "So, onto better and more important subjects—"

"More important subjects?" Erumar said incredulously. "Than thanking Ilúvatar for surviving?"

"That was not what I meant," said Enguina exasperatedly. "I _meant_ instead of talking about the lives of three men that deserve their punishment. Can we please move on?"

"Yes," Arwen said, sighing. "I think we should."

"Good. Erumar, what are you most excited about within your trip tomorrow? Are you excited for anything? Have you thought about it?"

"I…actually have thought about it," she admitted. "Once I made my decision to go, I have been thinking about it ever since. The night before the…attack I could barely sleep."

"It will be a long journey," Enguina said, "but what are you looking forward to the most?"

"The most?" She hesitated. "Seeing Eryn Lasgalen. From the stories that both Legolas and Thranduil have told, it sounds like a haven, a place that, as you have all said, is new and can be filled with new memories. I am looking forward to that. I will not be safe exactly, but…no place is completely."

Enguina nodded. "Yes, even Legolas mentioned the spiders. When he told me how big some of them were, I could not believe him."

"I am not entirely sure she meant the spiders," Arwen murmured, and she laid a hand over Erumar's. "Love is not safe at all, Erumar."

She looked down at the toast she was trying to put in her mouth. "It will be even less safe there. I am still anxious…nervous," she admitted, "but I am determined to find out why in the world I am still here."

"To save the life of myself and my baby for one," said Enguina from across the room. "Ilúvatar only knows what would have happened had you not been there."

"To be a friend to someone else who is hurting," Arwen said softly. "You will be excellent at that. You already have been, or he would not be so inclined to see you again."

" _And_ to be a traveling companion to Arwen's husband so that he does not forget about her in the months he is away. You can be there to remind him that she still exists," Enguina laughed.

Erumar laughed, too, as she shook her head. "Aragorn? Need reminding? He will be singing to her every night, as he had the thirty years before they found one another again in Lórien. I will not need to mention her name once."

"You probably would not have to anyway," Enguina teased. "One look at you and he would need no other reminder; you and Arwen could be twins."

Erumar scoffed at her. "I could never be mistaken for her."

"Same dark hair, beautiful eyes…oh, _never_ in the eyes of a mortal," Enguina laughed, rolling her eyes. "Well, if you cannot be there for that, at least he will enjoy having you along for your company," she offered. "That will be useful. And you will be learning how to fight, once your arm heals, of course."

"Oh…of _course_ ," Erumar said. "I forgot all about that. It will certainly have to wait."

"Learn to fight with your weakest arm," Arwen said softly. "You will be amazed at what you can do when you then use your strong arm. And, when your enemy thinks he has you, you can surprise him."

"Ooo," Enguina said, raising an eyebrow, "I _like_ that."

"I think that might be a bit too malicious for me," Erumar said, looking over into Arwen's face. "I do not…I do not think I will ever be a good swordsman, but I do still wish to learn to defend myself. Not necessarily learn to fight. I have never had cause to do so; I probably never will. Not like you, anyway."

"No," Arwen said with a little smile, "I hope you do not. If you are with Thranduil's people or with Aragorn, you will not have need anyway."

"I learned, Erumar," Enguina added. "Even to defend yourself against wild animals is important."

"Do not worry about it now," Arwen reminded her. "It is something you can think of as you journey. Your presence will, however, temper the thoughts of so many men traveling together. Having a woman in such a force is…interesting. It was similar to this when Aragorn and I traveled to Dol Amroth several months ago. They will be glad you are there." She smiled. "Just remember to stay out of trouble."

"I am not you two," Erumar said with a sigh, finishing her toast. "I do not get in trouble unless I have help."

"Erumar, you _are_ traveling to a probable war torn area; you are bound to see some fighting. And, you shall be with Aragorn," Enguina replied, "everything he does draws trouble of some kind. Just promise us you will be careful. The next time we see you, we want you to be healthy."

"I am sure my arm will have healed by then," teased Erumar, but she knew what they meant. She was grateful for their love, and she would never have admitted it to them but now that she was going on this journey she could not be more grateful for escaping the past she no longer wished to confront.


	27. Chapter 27

Between the dresser and the chest that rested at the foot of their bed, all of Aragorn's traveling gear was out and prepared. His extra clothes were packed, his cloak, his sword and dagger; all of it lay ready for him after bathing in the morning. The fine red tunic embroidered with the tree of Gondor across the chest, leggings, boots, belt…everything had been laid out. The kitchen table held his saddle bags, treats for both himself and Brego that he had not even begun to determine yet; she had told him they were surprises to be opened later. He had smiled at her upon the discovery, so kind, so thoughtful. She had done so many small things to remind him that she loved him; all of this was just one way to demonstrate her devotion to him. But the traveling, the leaving in the morning, the long time away…those things were not the focus of tonight.

Aragorn had come home from seeing Enguina and Erumar himself; he had expected her to be there and had found her missing. Enguina had explained over a snoozing Erumar that Arwen had returned to the guesthouse to prepare Erumar's things for traveling. When he had arrived at the King's House, he found all of his own things in place for tomorrow and supper upon the table. Finally, after talk of the day and plans and the coming months, she had asked him, so _hesitantly_ …if it would be wrong for them to make love. And she could not even look him in the eye as she had asked the question, her voice so quiet and ashamed.

How could it be wrong? All he had wanted was to lay her down and make love with her. She was his wife, he her husband; they would not be together, would not see one another, for an untold period of time. Did they need to spend his last night in Minas Tirith physically loving one another? No…but that did not stop his desire to be that close to her. What had begun after their conversation in the kitchen had made its slow way to their bedroom.

Arwen's breathing began to slow; muscles trembling, she slowly pressed her body down upon his and laid her head in the center of his chest beneath his chin. Unable to relax enough to withdraw her nails from his biceps, her hands still shaking, she rested her burning self against him. The summer night was hot; they were both sweating, both needing a brief respite. Her eyes fluttered closed as she listened to the steadfast rhythm of his heart still pounding rapidly against her temple. His hands gently withdrew her fingers from his skin and then found her spine, making her shudder again when she pushed harder against his body in response. Her hands fumbled along his sides, her thumbs rubbing against his ribs.

Again, she attempted to slow her breathing, though it was difficult with the way his fingers traced every vertebrae in her back, the way their bodies fit together so perfectly, the way his chin brushed the top of her head. This was what she had wanted…nothing more, nothing less. Lifting her head so slowly from his heartbeat, she pressed her nose and lips against the center of his chest and upwards, brushing her mouth against his salty skin again and again. The hand not rubbing along her back followed down her body until it found her knee, reaching her calf and thigh at the same time with the way her leg was bent. He kept on her smooth skin until he met her hip, then traveled back down to her knee. She trembled when he moved, when he shifted beneath her; she was so sensitive when they had reached this stage of love-making. He lifted his head, brushing his lips against her forehead and eyelids, the bridge of her nose.

" _Arwen…_ " he whispered, his eyes closing too in the pleasure of having her against him this way, in the way her fingers tried to hold onto him and failed, the way she pressed her fervent kisses to his skin. He only desired her more each moment than the last. " _I love you_." He said it with such passion that she lifted her eyes to him, breathless again by the hand from her back sweeping along her cheek, over her ear, along her neck and down her shoulder. His desire poured through their bond into her as he responded to her, his heart racing; he shifted beneath her, holding her knee tightly in one hand.

 _Aragorn!_ She gasped, her eyes closing. " _Tell me again…_ " Her hot, breathy whisper pulsed out along his chest as his heart hammered against her chin. He trembled and she heard his breathing quicken, the hand on her shoulder cupping the back of her head, tilting her head to draw her mouth to his.

" _I love you_ ," his voice low, seductive, the words murmured into her mouth full of longing. She could feel him in her mind, communication with more than words; the closeness, the wonderful closeness of him was too much for her senses.

His strong arm held her chest to his as he rocked her back until they were both sitting upright. That hand came up to caress her face as she gasped against his lips, her hands gripping his ribs tightly. His other arm wrapped around her lower back, supporting her, holding her tightly against him, bringing their bodies together. Her hands came up as she kissed him, drawing up and around his shoulders, pulling herself into him as if their flesh could truly become one person. He rocked her against him and her head fell back; he immediately dove in, supporting her neck with one hand, nuzzling her throat with his nose and lips, feeling her pulse race against him.

" _I love you so much. Holding you this way…_ " he murmured, struggling to get the words out, " _so close that…I can…I can—" —hear your heart beating with mine, so close that every inch of you is against me, so close that when you touch me I can barely speak._ Her nails traced both familiar and new tracks in his shoulder blades and when he rocked her against him once more she held onto him more tightly, her body beginning to tremble. His thumb rubbed against the top of her ear as his mouth found her earlobe, and her nails slipped into those familiar grooves on his back. He smiled; he was already so tightly wound that when she held herself against him like this he thought he might snap.

Regaining control of her neck for a second, she tilted it forward, pressing heavy and heated kisses to his cheek and nose and brow and chin before he shifted her chin aside with his thumb, forcing his lips back to her ear. He held her there, causing her body to tremble forcefully, her breath a whimper on her lips. _I love this…I love doing this to you…I love the way I make you feel, the way you make me feel…you are mine._

 _I am yours!_

 _And I am yours…_

 _You are mine!_

Their thoughts were spoken at the same time, and she shifted against him, crying his name out loud as he held her tight and kept his mouth on her ear. He let her move against him as she could, but it was hard for her to stay in control; eventually, she would have to let him take over, and he would. Her head fell back again, and he lowered his mouth to her chest, pressing his kisses along the line of the mithril chain that ran down her neck to her chest, holding his heart upon it.

That was what she had, he knew: she held his heart captive with her. He might be away on journey, but his heart was here, beating against her chest. That was why he had given it, because his heart was hers. Every moment they were apart he was going to be thinking of her and the way they had spent the last twelve hours he had been in Minas Tirith, lying side by side, holding one another in the heat of the night. Pleasing her, giving himself to her, and then holding her all night long, his senses were full of her and he wanted nothing more. This night was a perfect display of their love for one another, and it would remain with him for however many months they were parted.

* * *

Morning had come too quickly. Aragorn woke as usual with the dawn and decided he was not about to move. Arwen lay pressed to his side, her body curled into the warmth of his, her right leg wrapped around his leg with her ankle beneath his calf. His arms were around her as he had slept on his back, her hand lying on his heart, the way they had eventually fallen asleep last night after staying awake whispering too long. He kissed the top of her head as her face lay upon his chest and drew her hair slowly away from her back so he could look down the length of her. There was nothing more beautiful than her, bathed in the morning light. There was not a sheet in sight to cover them even had he wanted to; the heat in the room had made them lose the sheets off their bed. He smiled, his mind replaying moments of last evening. He watched the sun rising in the sky, the light moving along the window. He must have laid there half an hour before he felt her move, her upper body stretching against him, pressing into his side, her fingers curling along his breast. His fingers, as was his usual movement, were dragging slowly along her back and shoulder.

She was nearly awake, but he did not rush her. She blinked slowly, and then moved into him again, this time, wrapping her arm around his side to hold herself to him, almost hugging him, her leg tightening over his too. She lifted her chin, tilting her head until she could press her lips against his throat.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning, beloved," he replied, and he lifted his head so he could kiss her and claim the first real kiss of the day.

"It is growing late," she said as she lowered her chin, letting him kiss her forehead a few times. "You need to bathe and dress."

He smiled. 'We both do, or we shall be unfit to present ourselves. Erumar told me yesterday that you were going to help her ready Rûnving this morning."

"Yes," she said, "though I will admit if you do not make an effort to get up, I will not be moving at all. I have no will to let you go." Her voice was a bit sheepish. "And usually, I am the one with all of the manners and appropriate behavior…and restraint."

He drew his fingers through her long dark hair and as he returned them to her head, he began massaging gently, rubbing the tips of his fingers against her scalp. She felt him chuckle, deep in his chest before she heard it. "There was not much restraint last night in this room, whether from you or me. We need not move yet; the bells have not yet tolled seven. When they do, I must rise." He chuckled again. "That is, if you will permit me."

"Mmm…" she murmured, closing her eyes at the wonderful feel of his hand in her hair. "I will have to think about it. How much more time do we have?"

"I would say another half hour."

They were skin to skin already, but she adjusted herself so that her body was even more closely tucked against him, rubbing her face against his chest. She felt him chuckle again, and she covered her face with the hand that had been holding him tight. "Do not laugh at me."

He reached over with his other hand and drew hers away. "Ilúvatar, you are so beautiful," he whispered, rubbing a thumb over her eyelids. "I am completely mesmerized by you sometimes; the sun on your skin…this moment is too perfect." He sighed. "Every morning I wake I am going to wake reaching for you," he admitted guiltily. "After waking up to you at my side for nearly ten years, I am going to yearn for you every day."

"I know," she replied, "for I am not going to be able to sleep in this bed for a week without being desperate for you."

"It shall only take a week to stop missing me?"

He was teasing her, but he held her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips. "I only said a week because I did not want to worry you," she said, her voice still soft. "I will probably sleep on the divan the entire time you are away. In fact, I might stay at the guesthouse with Enguina until Legolas comes, and then…well, the divan and I shall become close as friends again."

"Stop that," he chided her. "You shall sleep in your own bed, our bed. Dream of me?"

"Always," she whispered, lifting her head to kiss his chin, scratching her thumbnail gently through his beard as he kissed her fingers.

"You can reach out to me," he reminded her, "and I will to you. Touch my mind, and you will know my heart, as always." She nodded, but she did not want to speak; she could not trust her voice, and she had promised herself she would not cry, that she would not make this too difficult for him. The last time he had left on a journey without her, something awful had happened; his few day hunting trips into the mountains notwithstanding. This time would be different; she had to tell herself that or she would never let him leave. She slipped her hand away from his mouth and cupped his cheek, propping herself onto her elbow so she could lean half onto his chest and kiss him slowly. Their eyes closed; the hand that had held hers traced down her arm to her shoulder, her back, the other holding the back of her neck.

They were still gently kissing when the bells rang out that it was seven o'clock. She rested her forehead against his, her fingers now wrapped around his ear and wound into his hair. She sighed and he kissed her again. _I love you_. As she thought the words to him, she mouthed them, and he kissed her one last time before letting his hand slowly slide from her skin, watching as her lips pressed tightly together.

"I love you, beloved," he said, stroking his hand through her hair. She met his eyes and then slowly began untangling herself from him. He slipped out of bed as she sat upright, her legs curled beneath her as she watched him walk into the bath. He did not turn around to look back at her, and she was glad for it. He might have seen her wiping tears from her eyes, and she could _not_ be upset about this. She had known it was coming; she had told herself this for weeks now. She ran her hand across the sheets where they had been lying as she heard the bath water begin to run; they were damp. It was time to strip the bed…and it would give her something to do as she waited for her turn in the bath. She rose and tugged on her robe from the nearby chair; then, she got to work. The only thing she left was the casing on his pillow.

 _I know you see me, Lord. I know you hear me. Please watch over my beloved while he is away. Care for him, shelter him, give him strength to negotiate this peace._ She swallowed hard. _I am going to struggle, Father…the entire time he is away. This is going to be so difficult for me…please…please, be near, be ever-present. I would ask that he remains at my side, but…that is not your will right now. Thy will be done, Father, as it ever is, but please…be near to me._

* * *

The Healers had _not_ been pleased at all upon discovering that Erumar was to travel with the King and the war party leaving Minas Tirith. She was kind to them as she spoke about getting ready and dressing, but they were not the least bit in a rush to help her. They had left the room to get breakfast ready for the two of them and upon their return, Erumar was sitting up and gathering her clothes. They had been more than a bit irritated, but it showed them she was serious about it. She instructed them to show her how to dress with her broken arm, as there would be no one to assist her on the journey. She would not dare to ask Aragorn for assistance; it would be completely inappropriate! Instead, she would figure it out on her own, even if it was going to hurt. They then showed her how to sling her arm appropriately by herself. She did it three times just to practice. Her head at least, thank Ilúvatar, felt better than it had even yesterday. Her vision was still blurry, but she was not about to say one word about that. It would fade with time. Finally, when she was ready, she came and sat beside Enguina who was dozing, half-in, half-out of sleep.

"En-guin-a," she murmured in a sing-song voice, and the elf blinked at the sound of her name.

"Oh…Erumar, you are sitting up!"

She laughed. "Enguina, I was sitting up yesterday."

"Oh…that is right," she said, rolling her eyes. "But you were not really walking yesterday. How did you get over here?"

"Walked," she chuckled. "Honestly, it must still be too early for you, hmm?"

"What time is it?" she yawned. "I will tell you if it is too early."

"Nearly half past eight, I think."

"Nine would have been nice," she said, closing her eyes again. Then she asked, "How is your back?" Erumar shrugged with her left shoulder.

"It could be much worse, but I think I will be all right; the first few minutes were difficult, but I think perhaps it simply needed to be stretched. It seems fine now." She rested her hand on Enguina's twenty-six week bump and rubbed gently. "How are you this morning? How is the baby?"

"He feels fine at the moment," she said. "He is probably still asleep." Then quite suddenly, she had tears in her eyes.

Erumar stared at her. "Dearest, what is the matter?"

"You are leaving," she said, laying her hand on Erumar's. "I want you to go, but…it has been so wonderful having you close, having you here. It has been such a joy to spend time with you again."

"Oh, Enguina…thank you, and Legolas of course, for your hospitality. I am so glad that I was able to spend time with you all, to get to know Legolas…to know you are in good hands. I wish I was going to be here for you and the baby when he is born, but…I suppose that is not to be."

"Promise me something," Enguina said, and Erumar smiled at her.

"What?"

"Promise me that you will pray for me?" she asked, her eyes now worried. "I know Legolas will be here, but I…I am still afraid. I am afraid of what will come, what might happen."

"Of course I will pray. Ilúvatar is going to be beside you the entire time, Enguina. Do not fear. You are almost in your third trimester, and you are going to grow a lot and feel awkward; take it easy, keep the baby safe, and keep _yourself_ safe. Legolas will be here soon; remind him that he needs to make you feel beautiful, even when you do not feel you are." Enguina laughed.

"I will tell him you said so. Will you promise me something else?" Erumar nodded for her to go on. "Even though we are not with you, will you promise to enjoy yourself? Will you promise that you will give Thranduil a chance to win your heart—"

" _Enguina_ —"

"—if that is the will of Ilúvatar?" Enguina finished stubbornly. "Will you please promise to enjoy his company and be a good friend to him? He was like a father to me as well as being Legolas's; please give him our love."

 _Give him your love, Enguina? Please, do not make me overstep any boundaries._

Erumar looked away, down to Enguina's hand covering hers. "You know I will," she admitted softly. "I do not think Thranduil's goal is to win my heart but…I promise that if that is what he comes to seek, and I see Ilúvatar's hand in it…I will try not to turn away."

"You must also promise," Enguina said firmly, staring into her face, "that if, at _any_ time, you decide that you are going to leave Middle-Earth, you must come to us first in Ithilien…and say goodbye." Erumar sighed. "I mean it, Erumar."

She hesitated, but she said, "Yes, I promise."

"Enguina, are you making her promise you the moon?" Arwen said from the doorway, and both of them looked at her. "Leave her be."

"They were important promises," Erumar admitted. "She was right to have me make them."

"See?" Enguina said, holding tight to Erumar's hand and reaching up to wipe her eyes with the other. "Oh, I told myself I was _not_ going to do this!" Erumar bent down and kissed her cheek as Enguina kissed hers. "I love you, you know."

"I love you, too," she said.

Arwen stepped over to them as Erumar rose, releasing Enguina's hand. "I have everything for Rûnving in the stables already," she said. "Everything is ready that you could possibly need, and every tunic is easy. I even stopped at the market to get one or two more for you. Are you ready? How are you feeling?"

"Thank you so much for your kindness," she replied with a smile, knowing that the physical struggle of the coming days might be as difficult as the emotional struggle she might face in Thranduil's kingdom. "I feel better; not perfect, but better. I am ready to go." She smiled at Enguina then. "Be safe; take care of that little one."

" _You_ be safe," Enguina said, clearing her throat, and Arwen reached down and stroked her forehead.

"Have some breakfast. As soon as the party has headed out, I will return and you and I can watch from the window across the hall."

"That would be wonderful," Enguina said, sighing. "Take care of Aragorn, Erumar," she reminded her, and Arwen laughed as they headed for the door.

"He will be just fine," Erumar replied as she laughed. "I will keep more than an eye on him; do not worry!"

And then she was gone.

* * *

It was not until the third evening out upon the road that the pain in Erumar's arm became almost too much for her to bear. She had kept it to herself of course; she was not unaccustomed to pain and she thought that she could handle it well enough on her own. Looking back on the time that she had spent in the saddle, she should have been a bit more careful, though getting used to her arm in a sling was not easy.

The first day was not too bad; the pace that Aragorn set was perfectly fine and she was well-rested. Erumar herself enjoyed riding Rûnving and getting to know the Lieutenants and Captains a bit better, especially those who rode closely with Aragorn—Hildanir and Mennev. Hildanir was very amusing, and Mennev spent most of the first day interrupting his flirting with her. Even Aragorn laughed at him several times, and it was clear to Erumar as well that was what it was. He was young, though she was most certainly not and was a widow. He took it upon himself to tell her about many things and he was very kind.

The second day did not begin well. When she woke in the morning, she never even thought about not rolling onto her right side; she rolled onto her arm and practically fired herself to her feet. Wanting to scream, she barely restrained herself enough not to wake anyone, but the pain had been incredible. Then, not two hours later, one of the tree branches snapped back from Mennev and hit her in the right arm as well. Thankfully, that had not been as terrible; he had apologized profusely and she had brushed him off, reassuring him that everything was fine. Taking sleep in the evening was uncomfortable, but it found her.

It had been this third day that had done her in by lunch time. She had been very careful up to that moment dismounting and mounting, but her arm was just slightly too low and caught on the front of the saddle. When she finally got down, she almost went to her knees. She used everything possible to distract herself from it all afternoon, but she was so uncomfortable that she felt she could hardly breathe without it jarring. Every movement of her head, every pull of muscle was agony, and riding a horse pulled an awful lot of muscles. When they stopped to make camp at night, it was already dark, and she was glad that no one could see the expression on her face.

After dismounting, which was nigh impossible, she reached forward and loosened Rûnving's cinch, watching the men around her tie up their mounts and prepare their bedrolls. They were not cooking tonight, so the men simply sat around talking in small groups with their bags of jerky and waterskins. There were about fifty men in the company, not including the King and the officers, and every one of them that she had met seemed like good men. She hoped that she would learn every one of their names before they reached the northern border.

"Lady Erumar," said Mennev from nearby, "can I help you with your bedroll? It's hard to untie with only one good hand."

She turned slowly and gave him a smile. "I hope we will all know each other fairly well by the time we are finished riding north. Please, call me Erumar, Captain; we can leave the formalities."

"Then you should call me Mennev, not Captain," he snorted, and reached over to untie the roll. "I'll take care of this." He also took whatever else he thought she might need and brought it with him to help her sort her things. Mennev liked to give her space when he set her up which really was unnecessary; but she found him thoughtful, so she let him go. "You're coming over for some dinner?"

"I do not find myself hungry," she replied. "But thank you, Mennev. You are all so kind to me."

"We're glad you came along. We all feel a little responsible for what happened to you in our City and those men from the Council," he admitted, flattening the roll. "They got what they deserved, o'course. We're just glad you're all right."

She thanked him again and awkwardly sat down on the mat. If she were to eat something now, it would _never_ stay down. The amount of pain she was in was making her stomach turn. She tried to focus on something else. She thought about the last few days; she looked around at the men. Some of the men were already lying down; one was playing his flute for several others; some men were still eating. She sat watching them, trying to take her mind off her arm and wondering if she should dominate the fire one of them had made in the center of camp; they were boiling some water, probably for coffee. She thought perhaps she should try to make herself some tea. It was only a few minutes later that Aragorn made his approach. She smiled at him as he crouched down beside her.

"Your men have the greatest respect for you," she said to him and he nodded. She had been watching him speak with a few of them, standing near the fire and discussing their path come first light. "I am glad that I decided to come with you all. These are good people."

"They are great people," Aragorn said, glancing back at them, smiling, and then looking back to her. "You have been watching them, and I have been watching _you_. How are you feeling?"

"I could be worse," she said, but his penetrating eyes never left her face. How could she hope to hide a single thing from those eyes?

"You could probably hide your pain from every single one of them," he said, nodding his chin towards his shoulder, "but you cannot imagine that after living for ten years with an expert secret-keeper that I would not be able to read you."

She swallowed. "I am a guest here…I do not want to be a burden."

"You are my friend," he said. "You have never been, nor will you ever be, a burden." She did not protest as he reached for the sling on her arm, but he heard her teeth click as she gritted them. He looked up as he began unwrapping it, hearing someone was fairly close by. "Mennev," he called, and the man turned. "Can you get me some warm water? Erumar needs some."

"Of course, Elessar," he replied, and he went immediately.

"I could have gone to the fire," she said, as he released the wrap. Her arm was terribly bruised, her elbow was the worst of it. The break they had to set was below her elbow; her arm was also fractured _above_ her elbow, which made it extremely difficult to wrap and prevent from jostling. It was swollen in both places, but as he lay his hand over it she made to pull back, gasping in pain. Her head swam and she closed her eyes, tears in them.

"Stay still," he said softly.

" _Elbereth_ , I cannot," she whispered, lifting her head to look at him. "It hurts so terribly, I do not want you to touch it. _Please_ …"

"You need to trust me," he said, meeting her eyes, and she grimaced. She had _seen_ him heal; she knew he could work wonders.

"That's not good-looking," Mennev said as he set down a pot of water beside Aragorn. He crushed some herbs in it that she had not seen in his hands, the scent soothing to her. She lifted her head and gave Mennev a little smile as Aragorn took a little bit of it out and mixed it with something else. No one paid him any attention.

"Thank you for that, Mennev," she said. "That makes it so much better."

"I can't believe you're out here with a broken arm. No woman I know, except maybe the Queen o'course, would be out here with an injury and ridin' a horse! You know, I'm going to have to ride closer to you and pay more attention. I don't want you hurting yourself. Maybe Hildanir can keep a closer eye on you, too."

"That is kind of you, Mennev, but I will be all right," she said. "At least my head is feeling better. That was what I was most worried about."

"Listen to me," Aragorn said softly, and she looked down at him, a cup of butter-consistency paste in one hand and some all over his other. "This is not going to be wonderful at first. In fact, it might be much worse." She paled immediately at his words.

"What…what is that?"

"I have been concocting it in my head all day," he admitted honestly. "It is a mixture of several things. The pain-relieving tea will help, but this will be more immediate and penetrate your skin. It might take a few minutes to work though."

"Aragorn," she replied, her voice low with pain, "it is already terrible. I do not think I can stand it; my head is swimming as it is."

He met her eyes. "It is going to hurt for me to spread this on your arm, but it _will_ help. I am certain of it. Will you please let me?"

She did not want to say yes. In fact, she wanted to wrap her arm back up and tell him to leave it be, but she was already in agony and she did not know how much more she could take. "I will not be able to sit still," she said honestly.

"Will you trust me?"

"Oh…do not ask that of me," she whispered, and she turned her head away, nodding. She was not only afraid of making ungodly noise, but of retching on him. The pain was at her limit; she did not know what would happen if he were to—

"Mennev," Aragorn said, and the Captain came around her, displeased at the prospect.

"Yes, my Lord," he said, and he took her shoulders in his hand to keep her still. Erumar did not even have time to tell them this was a terrible idea before Aragorn's hands were on her.

She did not retch, but she came terribly close, breaking out into a sweat, her breath coming out in little gasps. She was nearly writhing in Mennev's grasp, but it was over before it came to that. As soon as Aragorn wiped his hand clean, he immediately helped Mennev lay her down on her side, supporting her arm himself as he let the paste dry and try to take pressure off her head so she would not vomit. He knew how close she was.

What amazed her, once she could think again, was that he had been right. The pain in her arm felt less; not _gone_ , but less. Her breathing evened out, and it was Mennev's voice she heard, not Aragorn's.

"Well? How's it feel?"

She opened her eyes and met his; Aragorn was behind her. "Surprisingly better," she said and Mennev laughed.

"Turin's beard, you've got some nerve, Erumar!" he said. "Most _men_ wouldn't've been able to do that!" She said nothing; she would never blame them, as she had not wanted to do it either. "Everyone in this camp's gonna have some respect for you by mornin'!" He shook his head and looked at Aragorn. "Need anything else, Elessar?"

"No, thank you, Mennev," he replied. The Captain bowed his head and headed toward the fire, and she heard Aragorn chuckle behind her. "That is some numbing agent."

"It feels so much better right now," she said, stunned. "You astound me."

He wrapped her arm in the cloth to cover the ointment and then carefully re-slung it as he spoke. "My hand is almost completely without feeling," he said, laughing at himself. "I may have put a bit much in."

"No, no," Erumar said, sighing. "It is _heavenly_ , thank Ilúvatar." He chuckled again, and helped her sit up carefully. "I think I may actually be able to eat now."

He smiled. "Good. This lotion will keep for some time if I have it wrapped; though it is not difficult to make more. I do not know how long it will take to wear off, but it may help for several hours. We will see when it begins to bother you again, and I will put more on."

"As long as we are stopped," she reminded him. "You will not be holding back this company for me. I will not slow us down, and there will be no argument about that." He held up his hands in a peace gesture, nodding. He handed her the waterskin and she had a drink from it, and then the two of them shared some dried fruit.

* * *

Over near the fire, Ethring had been watching the three of them, amazed by how at ease the King was with his men and with her. The King clearly knew her better than even he had known, and he was also struck by how much she truly _did_ look like the Queen. There was no doubt that she was the perfect choice for a mistress; the people of Gondor would never suspect that the Evenstar had not been the mother of the child, not with how much they looked like one another. A child from Erumar would be growth to the line of Gondor, and that could only be a positive. Yes, there was no doubt that the Evenstar would be crushed when she discovered that her husband had committed adultery, but Ethring could not think of it that way. Elessar was King. He was above the law; he had to be. And perhaps, after a period of time, the Queen would come to see through Nardur's convincing, that this was the only way.

He could not act just anytime though; they needed to be on the northern borders before he would even _think_ of it. It was far too soon, and at times he worried that if Elessar looked too closely into his face he would read his mind. He was fairly certain that the King did not have that mystical ability, but…one could not be too cautious. He needed time to plan it all out, how he was going to speak to Erumar and lure her into taking the drug; he might need to do what he told Nardur: simply overpower her and force it on her. Perhaps, with the affection she already felt for the King, perhaps it would be possible to convince her that lying with the King was the best course of action for everyone involved…though he doubted it. Beyond any doubt, he needed to get to know her before he made any moves. He would make it a point to do so in the coming days. He had all the time in the world; it would be an adequately long journey to accomplish such a task.

* * *

It was a little over a week since Aragorn, Erumar, and the troop of soldiers had journeyed from Minas Tirith. Arwen had been trying her best to stay busy and remain focused on her duties; she tried not to think of Aragorn being missing too often, but it was so difficult and especially at night. She found herself reaching out to him at moments when she was not planning on it, if only to feel a reassurance that even with all the distance between them, she could still touch his heart. She would feel him, get a sense of his love and peace, and it would help. It also helped that she was spending much more time with the expectant mother in her midst. That was proving useful indeed to keep her mind off his absence, though the thought of the child continued to haunt her every step. Each time it leapt upon her, she would pray, sometimes abundantly. One afternoon when Enguina had been snoozing on the divan, Arwen felt that she had been under a spiritual attack. Her heart so heavy she could barely take a breath, she spent the whole time in desperate prayer. Enguina woke and thought she had collapsed, but she was simply frantic to feel Ilúvatar's presence holding her. Enguina had held her too, and eventually it seemed to pass.

After one extra day in the Healers, Enguina had been declared fit to leave and out of danger. Everyone who saw her on the streets expressed their grief about what had happened, but Enguina wanted to let it go. What had been done was done; she wanted to move past it now. Arwen was fine with that, except allowing her to be in the guesthouse alone; Enguina was pleased with that as she had no wish to _be_ alone. So for the moment, both of them were sleeping in the guesthouse; at least, Arwen had stated, until Legolas had arrived. Not that she did not wish for Arwen at her side, but Enguina was praying fervently that it would be soon.

This morning the sun had risen brilliantly, and Enguina was leading her by the hand through the Market. They were being trailed slowly by two guards who were assigned to be sure that they remained safe. Arwen had to laugh at the way she picked up some of the same things she had touched the day before, looking at them as though they were new when she had only seen them just yesterday. She glanced back at Arwen and saw the expression on her face.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked her, picking up an apple from one of the seller's stands. Arwen shook her head.

"You picked up that exact apple yesterday," she said. "Do you know that?"

"No," Enguina chided her, studying the apple. "I would remember if the apple I held yesterday had a bruise on it."

"Oh come away from there!" laughed Arwen. "You are not going to buy it; you just had a peach down the street." She reached out and plucked it from her hand, setting it back upon the others. She tugged Enguina with _her_ down the street, heading towards one of the vegetable stands as she needed to get some for dinner.

Enguina stopped, pulling Arwen to a stop as she inhaled deeply. "Do you _smell_ that?" she whispered, breathing in the scent of freshly baked bread. "That smells amazing!"

"I _know,_ " she laughed softly. "You spoke as much yesterday."

"I must have some!" Enguina said.

"Slow down, Enguina," Arwen said as the elf turned and hurried back. Her ribs were not healed, and she did not want her injuring herself again. But within moments, Enguina had bread in her hand and was back at her side. Arwen reminded her to take it easy, but she was already towing her to another stand that was selling food.

"You are incorrigible!" Arwen said, exasperated. "Are you really that hungry? You are like a bottomless pit that cannot be sated! What has gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, nibbling on the piece of fresh bread.

"Enguina, you are eating everything in sight," Arwen said with a laugh.

"Oh, _that_!" Enguina said, giggling. "Well, I am hungry, silly." She reached down and rubbed her abdomen gently. "Arwen, I am eating for two!"

"Yes, _two_ ," she laughed, "not _twelve!_ " Enguina looked abashed.

"Have I really been—"

"I am only teasing," she assured her. "But honestly, you are never going to eat dinner at this rate." Arwen chose some peppers from a nearby cart, paid the seller, and placed them in her basket.

"It _is_ the lunch hour, you know," Enguina said as they began walking again. "Though…we already had it, did we not?"

"Yes! That is what I mean!" She shook her head and looped her arm through Enguina's. "Oh forget it. Finish your bread; I will get some beans, and then we can stop and get some of that delicious soup from the corner—"

"Oh, that is a _wonderful_ idea!" exclaimed Enguina, and Arwen nodded. Arwen got her beans, and as they were finishing eating their soup, they heard a voice behind them.

"Good afternoon, my Ladies!" Dintîr called out as he came up to them. He bowed as Arwen turned around, surprised as she recognized his voice immediately. "How are you both this fine day?"

Enguina did not recognize him, but by his uncommonly fine dress, she assumed he was a councilman. She stood a bit stiffly; she could not help it. Every one of them she had met so far was bad, and she wanted nothing to do with them. Arwen smiled warmly, however, and seemed to realize she needed to make immediate introductions so Enguina might understand this man was a friend.

"Dintîr," she greeted him, reaching out and clasping hands with him, "I do not know if you have ever met face-to-face with the Princess, but please, allow me."

"Once, at the wedding," he said, kissing Enguina's hand. "But you would not remember my face out of the hundreds you saw that night. It is my pleasure."

"Dintîr is a family friend," Arwen added, and Enguina's expression softened.

"I _am_ pleased to meet you," Enguina said. "I apologize for my—"

"Please," he said, "you need explain nothing to me! Your experience with councilmen has not been the best. Let me reassure you though that I have yours and the Queen's best interests at heart."

"Has the council let out early?" Arwen asked.

"Every once in a while we cancel a session. Today was too fine to remain indoors."

Enguina suddenly laughed. "And why do you never let out early when the King is here? I do not remember you ever releasing everyone early!"

Dintîr laughed good-naturedly in return, running a hand through his long, dark hair. "Indeed, that does seem to be the usual situation. How are you feeling, Lady Enguina? You look quite well today and in good spirits."

"I am quite recovered thank you," she replied, though she did not mention the intense bruising she still had or the broken ribs that ached painfully at moments. "Arwen tells me I have been eating the vendors out of their wares this morning. I think we should turn back to the guesthouse before I buy anything else!"

May I do you the honor of escorting you?" he asked courteously, "though I know you have several guards around here close-by. I know that the King has not allowed you to be unattended." Of course they said yes. Arwen watched him suspiciously. Oh, she knew Dintîr was a wonderful man, but she found it unlikely that he would come and seek them out simply to walk with them; he wanted something, but she would have to be patient to learn what it was. He was, however, one of the few councilmen she had found whose conversation she could enjoy, and as they walked along she found herself lost in it. He brought up a subject dear to Enguina's heart.

"And how has the Prince been?" he asked with a smile. "It has been many months since we have seen you both, and I am certain that the people have asked you if they had opportunity."

"Oh, many of them have," she stated. "Legolas has been very well. I am hoping that he will be among us shortly. I miss him terribly," she admitted, sounding almost surprised she had said the words aloud.

"I am sure you do. I would miss my wife quite awfully if I were to leave Minas Tirith, but, I am not a military man, so that would be unlikely. I think his presence was a great benefit to the City," he agreed. "I am certain he is excited about the prospect of a child, though I cannot imagine it was easy leaving you, knowing he had a son or daughter on the way. His visit with the Master Gimli was long overdue, I assume."

"Yes, and the date for his visit was set; he could put it off no longer," she replied. "I only wish that I, too, could have done with him. Seeing the Glittering Caves is something I long for."

"Legolas would not have heard of you traveling such a distance, I am sure."

"No, indeed," she said with a laugh. "And he will not be pleased when he learns I am here, either. Though, he would have been glad to see Aragorn, I am sure."

"As a man," Dintîr said with a grin, "I can sympathize with his opinion. If my wife were with child, I would not like her traveling by horseback."

"Lómë takes good care of her," Arwen insisted.

"As Asfaloth does you, my Lady, I know," he said. "But that would make no difference to me."

"Do you have any children, Dintîr?" asked Enguina.

"Why, no, Lady Enguina," he replied. "My wife…well, I need not go into all the details, but we are unable to conceive." He looked away from her eyes suddenly, embarrassed, as Enguina looked at him. Arwen listened to him speak; she did not know the story herself, but she knew Aragorn did and he never spoke of it. She could assume why: the woman had lost a child when she was very young and she had been unable to conceive since then. Aragorn would not confirm her suspicions, and she understood.

"Oh…forgive me," she said, and her heart immediately went out to Arwen as well, knowing that it must have been on her mind.

"Please," he said, "do not trouble yourself. We have been married for nearly twenty years; we married when she was but fifteen." He laughed. "I knew she was mine at a _very_ young age." Enguina could not imagine being married at so young an age, but Dintîr continued. "Are you intending to have the child here, or are you returning home when the Prince arrives?"

"My original intent was for the child to be born at home," she replied. "I do not know if that decision will change when my husband arrives or when we will be traveling."

"It should be soon, though, yes?" he asked. "You are nearly seven months."

"Next week. But do not worry so much, my Lord; I am perfectly well." They arrived on the front steps of the guesthouse within another few moments. Enguina smiled at him as she opened the door. "It was lovely meeting you and talking with you. Perhaps, when Legolas arrives, you can come here for dinner some evening with your wife."

He bowed his head, surprised by the invitation. "Why thank you, my Lady. My wife would be delighted."

As Enguina opened the door, Arwen noticed a serious expression flash across his face. Her heart suddenly dropped into her stomach; there it was, what she had been fearing all along. _Stop! It is more than likely nothing!_

"Evenstar," he said, tilting his head to her, "might I have a word?"

Enguina paused in the doorway, hesitating. She did not want to go inside and leave Arwen on the porch with possible…news? Nothing could have happened in a week; that much was certain. But she was worried, but Arwen made the decision for her.

"Enguina, would you mind taking these inside? I will be along in a moment." Enguina reached out and took the vegetables from her. It was the reassurance in Arwen's eyes that finally let her close the door between them.

"Shall we sit for a moment?" he asked, and motioned a hand to the settee that was on the porch. Arwen took a seat in it and Dintîr leaned against the porch railing. It was a casual gesture meant to put her at ease; it helped only a little. "I did not mean to cause you alarm," he said, "and I am afraid I have done so. I only wished to discuss something that I feel is of a sensitive nature."

"Are you all right?" she asked and he nodded.

"Yes, of course. But something has been bothering me…certain… _tones_ that are taking place since the King departed, well…even before that…" He sighed softly. "Noldore told me I am being ridiculous, but…nevertheless I am here to tell you. I know nothing for certain; however, I have feelings and those feelings, I cannot deny, are suspicious."

"Lord above, Dintîr, speak plain," she said, unable to contain her frustration. "You are speaking in circles and only making me more anxious. What is on your mind?"

"I wish I could be more specific," he said miserably. "But here it is: I believe there is something seriously amiss within the Council."

"Are there not already serious things amiss in the Council?" she asked seriously. "Dintîr, Erumar and Enguina were _stoned_ , not a week ago."

"I know," he said, and he took a seat beside her so swiftly it would have startled anyone else. "But I think whatever is spreading…rumor…dissent…discord…" he shook his head in confusion. "I am _worried_ that it concerns you somehow. I do not know what it is; it has been plaguing me. I am worried it will affect you."

"Affect me how?"

"I hardly know," he stammered, frustration evident in his voice. "There is information being withheld, somewhere, somehow within the Council. Noldore and I have been noticing some quick and quiet conversations taking place. I do not like things done in secret," he said with sudden irritation. "But I especially do not like things done in secret that I feel may hurt someone I care for." He looked intensely at her. "I am worried, Evenstar."

"You think whatever this is may hurt me?"

"I am worried there is some sort of plot, or scheme…something that I know nothing about. And I have been…well, Noldore and I were commissioned by…" He suddenly stopped short, a feeling that he was not supposed to tell her that Aragorn had asked them to watch out for her.

She already knew. "The King asked you."

"Yes," he said miserably, "Elessar asked, and I was not supposed to mention it to you. He was considering your well-being and that of your friend when he asked. I am sworn to my duty, Evenstar. I am worried that there is something going on, but I am going to do everything I can to discover it. It…it is probably nothing, as Noldore said; he did not want me to trouble you with it, perhaps I should not have…perhaps I sound ridiculous and unreasonable."

"Dintîr," she said, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm, "I am glad that you did. I will be watchful, careful."

"Please," he said, "if you hear even the slightest whisper of anything suspicious, I want to look into it. I want you to be safe; you are my Queen, and as the King's wife and as my friend, I want you to be taken care of. So did he."

"I know," she said with a soft smile. "I am not angry, Dintîr."

"Good, as someone needs to watch out for your well-being when there is no one else to do it." He sighed, and then kissed her hand. "I remain your humble servant, Evenstar. Noldore and I will be keeping our eyes and ears open on the Council and elsewhere. I will let you know if I discover more."

"Good day, Dintîr."

He was off the porch and gone and she rose, thinking of his words. His conversation had left her a bit more unsettled than she would have liked. What in the world could anyone be plotting? What was there to plot about? Once again, she was clearly not knowledgeable enough to understand the ways of men—when they were in peacetime, why disturb it? She would, however, keep her eyes turned on Aragorn's throne, lest she have need to rise and defend it, of that she was certain. And the Council…well, she was _not_ about to let any news of _them_ get her riled up. They were not worth her thoughts or worries…and _that_ would settle the matter. If anything, she needed to simply pay attention, and that she had already been doing. She slipped inside the guesthouse, finding Enguina eating an apple at the table. Enguina immediately lifted her head.

"What was that about? Anything important?"

"Dintîr simply wants me to keep an eye open," she said honestly. "He is worried about actions some men on the council have already taken and if they might do anything further. He did not wish to worry you that is all."

"Oh," Enguina replied, "well if that is it then, shall we go to the garden? I have a strong desire to prune some bushes."

"Perhaps I shall bring a book," Arwen said with a smile. "That does sound like a quiet afternoon before suppertime."

They left the vegetables on the table and then headed towards the White Tower.


	28. Chapter 28

Author's Note: Aye, aye, guest reviewer! LOL Here is more, and glad you're enjoying it! We've been waiting for Legolas to show up... :O)

* * *

 _You hear my voice, and you leap for joy_

 _I feel your touch within me as you reach out for me_

 _I can only imagine how you look and what you think_

 _I can only dream of the days to come_

 _Your little eyes shall see the stars in wonder_

 _Your little feet shall dance upon the grass in splendor_

 _Your little hands shall grasp mine and teach me_

 _Of the child-like grace…that is in your face_

 _Child of life, child of joy_

 _You were created out of love_

 _May Eru bless your every step and never falter_

 _Never falter; my beloved you are_

 _Your little ears shall hear my words of truth_

 _Your little feet shall tread where mine have trod_

 _Your little hands will be tight in mine and held_

 _By your mother's unfailing love_

It was Enguina's voice that caught his attention as Legolas walked past the gardens on his way toward the King's House. He had assumed, after leaving Brethil with a stable hand that was where he would find her. The only thoughts on his mind were finding Enguina and making certain that she was completely well. The week it had taken him to get here was _appalling_ , but nothing could be done about it. He came around the edge of the row and saw her standing beside the lilac bushes, not fifteen meters from him. Along with the sight of her, the scent completely overwhelmed him.

Her delicate hands were among the purplish flowers, a short-bladed knife in one as she pruned away some dead leaves along the bush. Her long, golden hair lifted gently in the breeze, her face with a smile, her mouth open as she sang softly the words to her little babe. His eyes focused and fixed onto the almost seven month swell of her womb and he stood transfixed by her beauty; the light of the sun casting her in such a glow from heaven that he could not struggle against. He wanted to throw himself at her feet and lay kisses over and over on their babe, on her skin. He wanted to wrap himself around her, not caring they were in the midst of this garden, in the middle of a public place. He had eyes for absolutely nothing else.

" _Guin…_ " he whispered, and she lifted her head, her name carried to her on his breath. Her eyes met his for the first time in three months and the knife slipped from her fingers.

" _Legolas?_ "

Her voice was stunned and he could not help but grin at it. They ran for each other at the same moment, and he laughed gloriously as he swept her up into his arms and spun her around twice, staring at her as he did so. When he set her down, she wrapped her arms around his neck, his around her waist and pulled her against him as she brought his mouth down to hers, meeting his lips hard. He gave to her; hardly daring to breathe, so grateful she was in his arms he thought she might disappear. " _Legolas! Legolas!_ " she whispered passionately, breathlessly into his mouth, tears of joy in her eyes at her love being once more in her arms.

"How I have missed you so, my love, my love, my Guin," he murmured, and he took her face in his hands, showering her chin, her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids, in his kisses. Then he drew back and simply stared into her eyes, his so full of devotion to her that she could not speak. "I am determined to remember this moment for the rest of my days. Ilúvatar save my heart," he whispered, "is it possible you could be any more beautiful than when I left you?"

"Do not ever leave me again, my Prince," she begged him softly, tears now on her face. He covered her mouth with his again, kissing her passionately. Her hands wound into his hair, holding herself tightly against him. It was impossible for them to be any closer in that moment than they were.

"May it be as you say," he whispered, his voice full of his desire for her, "never, ever again." He kissed her again, long and fervently, communicating with his mind as well as his mouth how desperate he had been to hold her in his arms again. The kiss left her knees weak and her blood pounding through her ears; she kept her hands wrapped around his neck to hold her upright, glad they were there or he would see them trembling.

He _had_ to release her; he _had_ to, and he dropped to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her body to his lips, pressing them against her womb where their baby slept. She lay her hand against his hair, the other still tangled under it and around his neck. He kissed her belly several times and then pressed his cheek to her body.

"My child," he whispered, "how you and your mother have _grown_. Oh, I am here now, and I will not ever leave you or your mother again. Your father is here, and he _loves_ you…Ilúvatar, you have no idea how much. You and your mother…" He lifted his eyes to her and she lost it, covering her face partially with her hand; she was so full of joy at his return that her emotions were running away with her. She heard him say. " _Enguina, I love you…I love you so…_ "

He got to his feet so he could hold her once again, leaving one hand on her womb, rubbing it gently, and the other around the back of her head. He kissed her face again and again, every time a tear would fall, murmuring her name. She finally was able to rein in her tears and draw herself into his chest, her hands circling his waist. She never wanted to let him go again.

"Where are you staying, _moina_ _quen_?" he asked her, his cheek pressed against hers.

"The second guesthouse," she whispered back. "Can we go there? Can we just…I do not want to be on display…"

Neither did he, and his thoughts communicated that quite well. He carefully slipped himself out of her arms and took both of her hands in his own. "Take us there," he whispered. "I want to spend time with you, and you alone…in private, in quiet…" He just wanted to stare at her, for _hours_ , and remind himself how incredibly blessed he was to have her as his wife.

She stared at him and swallowed hard, communicating a desire for him through their bond that pushed his restraint to the edge. This was too public of a place for them to stay here and stare at one another like this, for him to love her here. His voice had been low, almost seductive when he spoke, he was so moved by his desire to be alone with her; she could not call back any sense of propriety and Legolas never had enough to begin with. His hand moving against her skin and his thumb stroking the back of her neck was causing her to leave self-control behind and find fulfillment and pleasure in his arms. His eyes were smoldering at what her mind was communicating.

She took a step back, drawing him with her, even as her knees were trembling; he simply let her pull him along, happy to be a husband again and simply a man—hopelessly, desperately in love with his wife. Within three more steps, they vanished around the edge of the right-hand rosebushes.

Sighing, Arwen rested her head against the edge of the stones around the fountain. She had a smile on her face, but she, too, reached up to wipe tears from her eyes. She was _happy_ to be forgotten by Enguina and unnoticed by Legolas; the scene of the two of them so deliriously happy had moved her heart. The way Legolas had held Enguina, kissed her, touched her womb…that was how she had imagined it would have been to reunite with Aragorn five years ago, after he had left to rescue Enguina…but it had not been meant to be. If she was lucky enough, she might see them later for her altered dinner plans, as all of the vegetables were still in Enguina's home. That was all right; she could make do.

She had no plan at the moment to do that yet though; she lifted her head and returned to reading her book. The smile on her face was genuine; she just wished that she too was having a reunion with Aragorn right now. She would simply have to wait.

* * *

Whatever Enguina had expected when she thought what her meeting with Legolas would be like after nearly three months of separation was not this. She had expected there would be talk about his journey to see Gimli, that he would be angry with her for coming to Minas Tirith, that she would tell him exactly what she had thought of him for being away so long. There was nothing of the kind. He kept telling her how beautiful she was, his voice full of astonishment at how much the babe had grown, and even though he did not say the words aloud his eyes spoke of his utter desire to be alone with her. As she reached to open the front door from the porch of the guesthouse, one of her dreams fired rapidly through his head, and he had her pressed up against the door in moments, causing her to gasp as he held the hands that had been holding his, totally unprepared for what the memory of that dream did to him.

 _Get us inside…open the door_ …

She freed one of her wrists from his hand and turned the doorknob. The two of them nearly fell through the opening, but he was prepared, catching her of course. He backed her in and closed the door with his foot before pressing her back to the wall and lowering himself to his knees before her, planting kisses all along her belly again.

 _There!_ He felt the baby move within her for the first time, and he pressed his face to her dress, his hands falling on her thighs, holding onto her. He could not speak, so in awe, so moved by this amazing blessing they had made together. She laid her hands in his hair and smiled, holding him to her as she tried to catch her breath from his kisses outside. Her ribs pained, but she forced it away; she was going to love him, and broken ribs be hanged! She felt the baby move, too, especially with his face pressed against her.

"Legolas, Legolas…" she whispered, her hands stroking his hair and his face, even his neck and shoulders. Whatever she could reach of him she had her hands on.

" _I have missed so much_ ," he moaned, and she shook her head.

"You are here now," she murmured. "You are here and that is all that matters. Baby," she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall, "do you know your father? This is your _father_. Feel his love for you, for us." Her fingers tangled in his hair again, and then he lifted his head, pressing kisses along her belly again, his thumbs moving on her thighs. That made her tremble.

"Please, come here," she said softly, and he got awkwardly to his feet before he began kissing her again. It began slowly, but it became more heated as the two of them thought about their past dreams and how this was better than any one of them because they were _here_ , and they could hold one another. He felt her beginning to unbuckle the gear he carried; it took her fumbling fingers a few minutes around all of the kissing they were doing, but she managed it. Leaving it against the wall, her hands immediately returned to his body, roaming up his sweaty back from his quiver and bow. She removed his sword belt and left it beside the bow; then her hands had to pause on his back again because of what he was doing to her throat.

His mouth had gone below her chin, lips and tongue following her pulse down to her collarbone and across to the center. She was so sensitive along that area that she whimpered and her hands gripped his back as he was gripping her. His mouth tightened, causing her breath to catch as he pinched her skin between his teeth and lip. She wanted to touch him; she was not about to let him have all the fun. She was unbuttoning his tunic without delay, her eyes still fluttering closed with his ministrations on her neck. She winced as his thumbs pressed against the bruised skin on her left hip but she did not say anything, so distracted by his tongue along her throat. _Oh my…Ilúvatar save me…_

Her hands were on him as soon as the tunic was open, exploring the chest she had not touched in three months. Her hands felt every rib and caressed his firm body; he might have been limber and athletic, but he was muscular as well. She brought her hands up to take the collar of his tunic in them, but he shrugged out of the shirt before she could help him. His hands came up to take her face within them, tilting her chin up out of his way with his thumbs as he went back to pressing wet kisses to every inch of her throat. Her hands dragged around his back, her nails trying to be gentle, to tease, almost tickling his skin. She felt him tremble against her and she had to smile. Shifting her foot forward helped her discover that his feet were already bare.

 _When did you get those off?_

Her voice stuttered in his brain as he nibbled the skin around her collarbone again, whimpering out loud at the heat of his mouth. He finally released her chin, letting her move her head, and she lowered her mouth to kiss him fervently on the lips, her hands helping him remove what was left of his clothes. She did not wait to touch him, to drag her hands over every single part of him that she had not touched in so long. He pressed himself against her, but gently not forcefully, rubbing his own hands from her hip to her abdomen to her rib cage. His left found her breast and she gasped as he rubbed his thumb along the fabric of her dress. His kissed her hard and her knees grew weaker; his right hand pressed her against the wall a bit harder, in response to her hands on him, her nails dragging along his hip and below his back, suddenly pressing along her broken ribs. She arched into him, dropping his hip to grab his hand and pull it to hers. She did not make any noise and the pain fell to a dull roar as he gripped her sore hip instead, pressing her to the wall. His mouth drifted from hers again, burning a trail of wet kisses down her throat again, his hand still against her breast,

After having her fill of touching whatever she could reach of him and kissing a hundred more times, he maneuvered her down the short hall, past the sitting room and into the bedroom, their hands still on one another. He had to make this about her now, because she had been touching him in ways that he could not quite handle at the moment; his self-control was just about gone. He wanted her to be comfortable; he wanted to undress her in the bedroom.

Her knees were even weaker than when he had begun in the other room, but she knew what she wanted. All thought of propriety or greeting to anyone else in the city, thoughts of dinner with Arwen, thoughts of anything but loving him _senseless_ were long out of her mind. She pressed back against him, nearly forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed until she pressed harder, making him drop back on his back as she lowered her lips to his collarbone and one hand to his hip, the other bracing herself to stay upright and sitting. She pressed her lips everywhere she could reach along his chest, her hand everywhere else. He could hardly stand it, his hands roaming between her back and her chest to her belly, down to her hip. He caught her ribcage again and she tilted back, causing his hand to maneuver back to her breast. _That_ was better…

"Guin… _Guin_ …" he pleaded with her, and she made her way back up to his mouth as his hands began drawing her hair back and off her shoulders. She met his eyes, her hand still roving around as he gritted his teeth. "Let me undress you," he whispered passionately and she nodded. Legolas began to sit back up, his hands taking her shoulders and his mouth capturing hers again as he pressed _her_ carefully back on the bed, her hands now tangling into his hair and leaving his body well-enough alone.

"I am uncomfortable on my back, love," she murmured into his mouth, propping herself up on her elbows and ignoring the bruise there. He leaned one knee on the bed beside her, smiling down at her as he traced his hands down the front of her dress. His fingers began by undoing the top button; her skin was flushed from his mouth and touch on her.

"One moment only, my love," he whispered back, kissing her again, "I will think of something." He moved then, burning a trail down her throat towards the buttons on her dress. As he undid the next one, he brushed his lips and tongue to the spot, feeling her eyes on him as he moved. She watched him until she could not watch him anymore; she was squirming beneath him, her head tilted back.

"You tease me," she groaned aloud, and she felt him smile against her lower belly.

"Oh yes…and how you love to be teased," he said in a breathy whisper. Then he returned to kiss her once on the lips before he leaned into her, slipping the dress off her shoulders. He followed the flow of the dress with his lips and kissed along her right shoulder to her elbow and arm until he slipped the dress off her wrist; his eyes were closed as he did the same to her other arm. He slid the dress down her body along with the shift and she lifted her hips slightly so he could gently tug it off of her.

Legolas began at her feet then; he took her right foot in his hands, massaging it with deft fingers and then slowly moved on, placing her foot over his shoulder as his lips made their way to the back of her knee and his hands traveled along her thigh and towards her hip. Eyes rolling heavenward, her head fell back against her shoulders, her hair spreading out on the bed beneath her. She could barely hold herself upright as he lowered her right leg and went to the left. Her leg was trembling in his hands when he was finished as he slowly removed her undergarments and his hands continued traveling.

One of his hands made its journey upward along her thigh and the other was circling her abdomen, stroking the area where the baby lay. She was in heaven after a few minutes and she could hardly keep herself propped up on her elbows, the strain on her ribs now becoming too much.

"Legolas…" she moaned out and her legs trembled with the pleasure of his touch. "God, Legolas…I _cannot_ …I cannot hold myself…"

Her head fell back again but he had moved to catch her, drawing several pillows over beneath her back to help support her. As soon as her weight was off her elbows, she began touching his chest again and when he leaned in to kiss her, her hand went around his back, pulling his chest to hers. He leaned back; he wanted his hands on her _now_. He wanted to make her feel the pleasure of his touch. His hands traveled down her arms, over her shoulders, and down her sides where he leaned on his elbows against the bed. She gripped his shoulders as his mouth pressed a line of kisses along her collarbone and down the center of her chest. He stopped halfway to her stomach, his eyes still closed as he pressed his lips between and beneath the tender skin of her breasts. His mouth traveled to her right breast and she gasped, her back beginning to arch from the bed. His right hand pressed against her ribs, trying to hold her still as she began to writhe away. She could not stop the cry of pain even as her hands tangled in his hair from the pleasure of his mouth.

 _Please, Legolas—do not!_

He did not know what he had done. His head came up and he opened his eyes, finally noticing the bruising across her ribs. He removed the pressure immediately, but she did not let him back away. His eyes were full of concern. She interrupted before he asked her, trying to pull his head back down to her chest.

"Later," she whispered, driving back the pain. " _Later, Legolas…_ I will explain, I swear _…_ but now just… _please…please…_ " _I want you…please, let it go for now…I need you…please…_

He was there with her; he understood what she wanted. Even though he was desperate to know what had happened, he pushed it from his mind. She wanted him to make love to her; that was what he would do. He lowered his mouth to her breast again and this time in moments she _was_ arching from the bed; he was probably not as gentle as he could have been. He switched breasts, sliding an arm between her and the pillow to hold her more firmly to his mouth. She was gasping and crying his name aloud in his head.

His face was suddenly near hers again as he captured her mouth in his, this time, not applying any pressure at all to her ribs as he slithered up her body, their chests touching. One of his hands cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over her skin. " _I love you,_ " he whispered against her lips. Her eyes closed in the bliss of kissing him. " _I have missed you so much_."

"Oh…" she moaned into his mouth as she felt his other hand follow down her side to her hip and then across her lower belly as her body trembled. " _Oh, Legolas, I love you…_ " His mouth left hers again, the fingers of one hand tangled in his hair as he moved lower, returning his mouth to her other breast again. She was gasping shortly again in pleasure as she tightly clung to one of his shoulders. After a few blissful moments of this, he moved lower; his lips trailing all over her stomach, feeling every inch of skin he had missed the expanding of, the growing of the child.

When he did not think she could possibly take any more, that her body was uncontrollably trembling from the pleasure of his hands and his mouth, he rolled her gently onto her right side. Shoving the pillows urgently from the bed and out of their way, he put his hands back on her, drawing down her body from her shoulders, along her back and all the way down to her toes. His eyes caught the bruises, but he could not stop to ask what had happened; he would only be interrupting the moment. She tried to touch him as well now, but her hands hardly seemed to function as he nibbled along the back of her neck, his lips leaving red marks there. But she wanted them desperately as she reached back and held the back of his head to her throat. He put his mouth where her neck met her shoulder and pinched her skin between his teeth; she pressed into him as he leaned over her, his hands somewhere around her knees and rising. She lost her ability to breathe for a moment as his hands worked over her, massaging and stroking in all of the right places. He then leaned over her body once more, pressing his lips beneath her arm, her breast, the bruised skin of her ribs, and onto her belly.

"I did not forget about you, my child," he whispered, dragging one hand along her smooth skin as he followed her inner thigh. His eyes lifted and met hers and he gave her a seductive smile. "You and I will talk later; at the moment, I am in the process of making deeply passionate love to your mother."

This… _this_ was what she had waited her entire life for! To be loved, adored, cherished by the best of men, the man who had chosen her! _Legolas! Legolas!_ She could not get enough of the way he touched her; she felt herself melting beneath him, barely able to focus long enough to grip him with her hands. She was on fire for him, her body screaming out her desire; every fiber of her being reached for him, begged him for his touch. She was clay in his hands. Her head fell back against the bed as she bit her lip, writhing with pleasure beneath him.

Legolas smiled to himself; he _loved_ bringing her pleasure, making her squirm beneath his touch, which was what she was doing right now. "I love her very much," he whispered breathily against her skin as she whimpered, gasping. "I promise that I will come back and visit with you later. _Right now though…I can think of nothing else but pleasing your mother…_ "

" _Legolas!"_ she cried out his name, and he kissed her belly, holding her still by her hip as she trembled so forcefully.

"Shhh…" he whispered back to her whimpering, and as she tried to control her breath that was coming out in gasps, her hand wrapped around the back of his head. He withdrew his hands, caressing her body slowly as he did so. Smoothly, he slipped up against her back, keeping her on her side. He traced a course along her skin from her belly between her breasts and up to cup her face, drawing her mouth to his. He collected her hair, running his hand over her shoulder in one sweep. Bringing her back tightly against him, one of her hands made its way over his face, down his neck, over his shoulder and partway down his side. If she could have pulled herself into his body, she would have. Realizing she could go no further as her arm could not bend in such a way, she flipped her hand over and laid it onto his back, dragging it along his side and down his hip and leg.

" _Legolas,_ " she whimpered his name, begging him, pleading with him. " _Gently_ ," she breathed into his mouth as he pressed himself against her back. He slipped his hand down her body and beneath her thigh, lifting her left leg up behind her knee, feeling her mouth move against his as she bit down on her lip. He pulled himself into her as though they were one, and she gasped his name and her head fell back to the crook of his shoulder as he lowered his mouth to her neck. Barely breathing now as he waited for her to adjust, she wanted his hands on her. Her nails dug into his hip as she twisted her foot up and over behind his leg. She pulled him even closer as she wrapped herself around him. He released her leg and slid an arm beneath hers, stroking her breasts with his fingertips all the way down where his hand then moved to her lower belly, brushing along her sensitive skin. His hand made the trip several times.

She still struggled for breath, but she opened her eyes and looked into his, the love in his eyes bringing tears to hers. " _Carefully, love…_ " she whispered, and he nodded. He kissed her gently, pressing her even more tightly back against him. She _wanted_ this; she wanted him so badly that every fiber of her being cried out to him, just as much as she could feel from him. She wrapped her left arm up and over his head and slipped it behind his neck, crushing his lips to hers, depending on Legolas's arm to support her on the bed. She could think of nothing else but the feel of herself in his arms, kissing him, loving him. They were moving as one; neither one could contain their joy in the bliss of loving the other.

* * *

Nardur knew that Arwen would be there; she had nowhere else to be this afternoon with Enguina _clearly_ preoccupied. He _knew_ her; frighteningly enough, in ways that she could not imagine and in ways that her husband would have long ago had him killed for. He could have told anyone _anything_ about her that they wanted to know. There were three places she would be on days like today where she did not need to be somewhere: she might be in the stables where her great love for her grey stallion would draw her; she might be in the garden that her husband had made for her so that she could be close to nature, close to Rivendell; or she could be at the King's House. Nardur was here to plant seeds this time; only to plant, not to water or watch them grow. For the sake of everything he had been planning, he had to begin to sow doubt, and this was the place to begin.

She had set her book down and was walking along the first row when he allowed himself to come into view of her, avoiding the guard at the end of the row. She bowed her head to him. "Good afternoon, my Lord," she said. "I was just taking a turn in the garden, so I will not disturb you." She had no intention of staying and speaking with him. Their last conversation had gone so poorly, and she had no desire to waste her time.

"No, no," he said, shaking his head and falling into step with her so she could not avoid him, "I was walking as well. It is a beautiful day for it, and the flowers smell so delightful. I heard that Prince Legolas has finally arrived." He added the last in a conversational tone. If Aragorn so much as knew he was speaking to her, he would have forced him to be thrown in the stocks!

"Yes, he did," she replied. "I have not seen him yet, but—"

"Oh, I am sure he will make an appearance at some point if he can drag himself away from his beautiful wife." He chuckled and Arwen smiled but did not join in his laughter.

"I would prefer to leave them alone anyway," she said. "They will be here for a little while longer; I assume they would not travel back to Ithilien this early."

"She is to have the child there, then?" he inquired. "I was glad to hear that she had recovered quite well from the ordeal on the fourth level. What an awful mistake they made, and for your husband to lay down the law in such a way upon them…I was sorry for it, Evenstar."

"It was intentional," Arwen said suddenly, and he was surprised by the vehemence in her voice. "It was no accident, no mistake. The King did only what their actions warranted. It should have never happened. I would not be surprised in the least if Vändir is executed by Prince Legolas himself."

"Nor would I be, the fool," he agreed. "But let us speak no more of such awful circumstances. It is probably for the best that the Lady travels home. I am sure she is glad to have her husband here, just as you would be for the King to return in a timely matter." He flashed a smile at her wary eyes. "Come, Evenstar, there is nothing wrong with stating that you miss him!"

"I do miss him," she said softly, looking away from his face. "It has been long since we have been apart."

"It is no private thing to miss someone," Nardur told her. "You are the envy of every woman in this City, being the wife of the King. Your relationship with Elessar is no secret; that you must know." She blushed, although it was clear she was trying to prevent herself from doing so. "Though, it must be a relief to you to know he at least travels with a good friend of your own. He and the Lady make a fine pair," he added. "She is kind and generous, and I daresay even as beautiful as you are. Will she be returning with him?"

"No, Erumar traveled with him to remain with King Thranduil's people in Eryn Lasgalen," she replied.

"Well, Lasgalen will have gained something else that we in Gondor have lost," he stated with a sigh, but he continued with a wink at her. "If the King had not fallen for you, I am certain that he would have for her. You are too similar for it not to be thought of! And the King is clearly fond of her."

"Erumar is an old childhood friend. We have known one another for an age." Her confusion was plain at this strange turn of conversation.

"Yes, that is right," he said quickly in agreement. "Sometimes I forget the agelessness of the elves! But still, it is an interesting thought to say the least. At any rate, I must be going now. It was nice to walk with you; have a beautiful day now, my Lady."

"And to you, my Lord," she replied pausing as he turned right at the end of the hedgerow and headed for the White Tower.

Why did every conversation with Nardur have to twist her around so much she felt as though she were spinning in circles? She was so confused! What _had_ that conversation really been about? Did he simply say things to rile her up, to bewilder her? Every word that came out of his mouth disturbed her peace; why did she always need to let it? She was tired of him, tired of all of them. Why in the world would she even think of the fact that Erumar and Aragorn would have made a nice pair? Erumar was the wife of Haldir; Aragorn was her husband. She had known Erumar almost forever, since she was a child in Imladris; she had wed Haldir, she was taken admittedly or not with Thranduil, and _no one_ of her race within their right mind would give up their immortality for a mortal. That task had been left, after Lúthien, for her alone; no one else could walk this path she had chosen and she fully believed no one else ever would have. She and Aragorn were made for each other alone. Why else would she have found no one before him to share her life with after nearly three thousand years in Middle-Earth?

No, somehow, Nardur's words had been poisonous; she was sure of it. She had better keep her head about her or at some point, the snake was going to rear its ugly head and show itself for what it was. Dintîr's warning from the guesthouse came back to her and she nodded. She had better watch her back.


	29. Chapter 29

This moment was bliss in her mind; she had been waiting for it for nearly two months now. Legolas's fingers and hers intertwined. She lay on her right side, her back propped up against several pillows, Legolas facing her as she basked in the wonderful warmth of making love to him. He was nowhere near her face of course; instead, she had her other hand rubbing the back of his neck and shoulders as she watched him bring his lips to her womb. Such tenderness was in his expression that she was in wonderment at the beauty of it! And once again, as always, she was smitten by how strong and beautiful his body was, and that he was hers and she was his. She loved him so.

"Oh chên nîn," he whispered, "I am sorry that it took so long for me to come down and really greet you, but…I was desperate to love your mother first." He released her hand and laid his on her belly, taking the other to her hip and down her long leg. "You have grown so much in the last few months that I hardly recognized you," he continued as Enguina giggled at his words. "Your ears are so small, yet I know you can hear my words. I know you cannot understand them, but I _love_ you. Your mother and I can barely wait to hold you in our arms. A little over two more months, and you will be here for us to hold and love." He pressed his lips to her skin again, feeling her hand running over the back of his head and shoulders.

"I mela le," she whispered and Legolas lay his cheek against the side of her belly, looking up into her eyes. They both felt the child move within her and she smiled. "He loves the sound of your voice, just as I do. I think he likes it even more when you lay your head there; it is almost as though he can feel your love for him, for me."

"I hope he can," Legolas whispered back. "I am so sorry I was not here."

"I cannot believe you _are_ here," she said, stroking his hair again. "I was praying for you this morning, and dreaming of you last night."

"I know," he said, giving a long sigh. "You have no idea how many of those dreams you sent me. Aragorn never told me that could happen."

She blushed, embarrassed. "Maybe he did not know. Forgive me?"

He laughed. "Not in the slightest," he replied, rubbing his thumb against her hip. "I am going to make you pay for every single one. I do promise that you will enjoy it though; does that make you feel better?"

"Mmm," she said, and he watched her skin flush with pleasure.

He gave her a smile with raised eyebrows. "I can tell that it does." He rolled to a sitting position and let his hand trail down her leg as he leaned back away from her, reaching down to capture her toes in his hand. He bent her leg so he could reach all of it fairly easily. She had some idea of what he was doing, but she wanted him to say it out loud.

"What are you doing?" she asked him softly.

"Massaging your beautiful foot."

"Arousing me, more like," she murmured and he smiled.

"Whatever way you wish to say it; it remains the same." He reached over with his other hand and laid it on her ribs. "You need to tell me what happened here," he said. "And your hip…and your back. Sooner rather than later."

She closed her eyes; this would be better said bluntly with no dancing around the subject. "A few of my ribs are broken," she said, "but they are healing."

His hands stalled on her foot. "Broken? And I—"

"I did not tell you because I wanted you to love me," she continued. "I did not want you to hold back; I was fine for everything except at the end where you…got a bit carried away."

"I…you should have _told_ me." He rubbed his thumb gently against her body, his hand returning to massaging her foot. "I would not have held you so tightly. It must hurt for you to breathe."

"I _wanted_ you to hold me; that was not your fault. As long as I am careful when I breathe, it does not hurt as much as you think it does."

"Guin…look at me." She opened her eyes, knowing what was coming. "Tell me."

"Three men on the fourth level, more than a week ago now—"

"Three men?" he asked, his eyes looking dangerous as his hand stilled again.

"They were angry because I was pregnant and…their Queen is not," she said softly, sighing pitifully. "They… _stoned_ us…Erumar and myself."

" _What?!_ " She should have prepared herself for his anger; she knew she should have.

"Legolas, please—"

"What the _hell_ —who were these men?" he demanded.

"Legolas things have been difficult here since I came," she said softly. "For many reasons. The people of Gondor have been delighted for us, but sad for their King and Queen. Arwen remains without child and it has been a difficult time for her as well with numerous comments made about her being barren and…it has been a trial by fire for her. These men were angry, and they took it out on us."

"Who _were_ they?" he asked again. "Do not tell me they were council—"

"One was Gildion," she said, and he recognized the name of the man he had hit in the face for slandering Arwen and her at the time. His jaw set and Enguina swallowed, looking away from his eyes.

" _Look_ at me," he said, and she did. "Who were the others?"

"One was named Felof…the man who cast the first stone was Vändir."

" _Vändir?_ " his voice snarled out. He dropped back onto the bed, holding her foot in his hands. He wanted to storm, to rage across the room, to _kill_ him. "Those filthy…they deserve to burn in the all the hells of Morgoth." He sat up, but his fingers began rubbing her toes now, not only her foot. He was furious, but he was trying not to take it out on her. His eyes were staring at her broken ribs, bruised skin. "For touching you, for laying a _hand_ on you—" His voice raged in her head; he was too angry to speak aloud any longer. He did not want their child to hear the anger in his voice.

 _My wife…my wife carrying our child…hit with stones? Stones that broke bone? That could have taken the life of our child? Of you, my precious dove? Ilúvatar forbid it!_

"Aragorn sentenced them," she said softly. "He was so angry—"

"He should have been," he said abruptly. "Vändir was the same man who brought a woman from Dol Amroth to become Aragorn's mistress."

"What?" she asked, stunned. "You mean—?"

"Yes," he said, nodding as he switched to her other foot. "Six years ago, they tried to bring in a woman for Aragorn to take as his mistress, nearly forcing him into it. It was…it was _awful_ …terrible. Their marriage was nearly torn apart by it and it took Faramir hitting Vändir in the face at a council meeting to teach him a lesson. Aragorn was completely distressed and I cannot even speak of Arwen. The man had troubled them for far too long. Gildion, well, you know what he did, slandering her. He should have had them all killed," he said, distress on his own face. "If he had _then_ , _this_ would not have happened."

"Gildion _is_ dead," she said softly, now understanding more of the weight upon Arwen to bear Aragorn a son. "Arwen said he was hanged the following morning for killing the silversmith in his anger. Felof has been exiled from Minas Tirith. Vändir…is in prison for life."

Legolas shook his head. "Why should he still be alive? He should have been hanged as well, strung up right beside Gildion."

She reached out and touched his face. "Let it go. What is done is done."

"He _hurt_ you; he threw _rocks_ at you. He could have killed you, Guin, and our child. He—"

"Let Aragorn's sentence be enough," she whispered, rubbing her stomach. "I do not…I do not like to see you so angry. Your temper is so fierce…so like your father's."

His face softened and he looked away. "Forgive me, please. I just…I was not _here_ …and you were hurt…and…there was nothing I could do. And you…you called me. I was in a panic and I rushed to the house and you were not there. There was nothing I could do; I could not get here fast enough to protect you." He looked back at her. "Do you know how terrifying that was? To be unable to reach you when you are in pain? Do you know what sort of memories that brings back for me?

"Oh my dearest, come here," she whispered, and he released her foot and went to her, lying down beside her. She pulled him close and he slipped his arms around her as she looked into his eyes. She knew what he was thinking of, being tied to that tree, so close to her and unable to rescue her, both of them in unbearable pain…oh, yes, she knew. "Forgive me…for leaving you that note and coming here without you. I…did not remember, when I called for you, that you would not know where I was. I am so sorry that I caused you such pain."

"Do not be sorry," he said, sighing. "That is not your fault either. I am glad you came here with Erumar to be with Arwen. I wish that nothing terrible had happened to you while you were here. I am sorry that I was so angry. My temper…my overprotectiveness…"

"You did warn me," she said, and he nodded. "I was telling Arwen of Gimli and your father at the house, do you remember? How angry he was…how terrifying…" She stroked his face. "It is all right to be angry," she continued, "but can we try not to be angry in front of the baby? Not with each other."

"I was not angry with you," he said, wounded that she thought he was. "I did not mean—"

"I know," she said. "I just want the words he hears to be _love_ …not anger. I have been thinking about it a lot since the stoning, how frightened he seemed. I do not know if it was because I was afraid or…" she shook her head. "I do not know, but if we are angry with one another or others, let us not be angry in front of him."

A little smile came on his face as he thought about her words. He laid his hand over her womb beside hers. "You know…it is going to be quite difficult over the next two months to be angry with you if I cannot be angry in from of the baby."

"Oh you…" she whispered, rolling her eyes and kissing him. "I love you, you know."

"I love you," he said back. "That was why I was so angry. The thought of anyone hurting you, ever again, makes my blood burn within me." He shook his head, trying to let it go. "Tell me what you have been doing since I have been away."

"Erumar and I traveled here at the end of July, and we have been making things for the baby and spending time with—" Her mouth formed an almost comical 'o.'

"What? What is it?" he asked, and she stared at him.

"I completely forgot about Arwen," she said, stunned. "She was sitting by the tree…reading..."

"No…" he said, trying to think back. Had he seen her himself? "She could not have been…"

"She was _there_! We were talking before you came and…oh, Ilúvatar, I am the most horrible friend! Dear heaven, I do not deserve her." She dropped her head back against the pillows, and he lowered his head to her neck, pressing his lips there.

"You were focused on me," he murmured, "and I on you. She will understand, trust me."

"Do not try and make me feel better." He kissed her along her neck until she sighed. "Stop that, Legolas. Really, I feel so very guilty."

"She will understand," he said. "What made you come to Minas Tirith, Enguina?"

"Arwen never received my letter," she said, feeling him continue to kiss her. He did not listen very well, and part of her was glad for it. "The first she heard of our child was when it came out of my mouth. She and Aragorn were away to Dol Amroth, making peace with the Haradrim. Do you know she actually touched a Mûmak?"

"Really?" he asked, intrigued, thinking of the gigantic creature he had killed during the War.

"Yes, and she said they are very gentle creatures as well. But I find it amazing that she never received our letter when our kinsman said for certain that he delivered it. Someone must have taken it from the messenger."

"That is strange, indeed." He then gave her a sheepish smile. "So…what are these living conditions to be like, now that I have arrived? Is Erumar—"

"Oh no, she is not here," Enguina said, dragging her hands down his back. "Neither is Aragorn."

"Aragorn is not…?" She saw a light fade in his eyes.

"I know," she said soothingly. "They only left a week ago, and they do not know when they will return. There were reports of trouble on the Northern borders near the Sea of Rhûn. Aragorn headed that way with a war party…and Erumar decided to go with them to travel to Eryn Lasgalen."

"Did she?" he asked, amazed. "What hand did you and Arwen have in that?"

"We all encouraged her, really," she admitted. "Even Aragorn, in the end. In her heart, she knew she wanted to go and see it, but she needed to realize it, and she needed our blessing as well. She simply does not know it yet, but…you know how she is with him."

"My father?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know how he was with _her_. Attentive, kind…" he nodded. "Perhaps I would go so far as to say besotted."

"Excellent word choice," she whispered, kissing his nose. He smiled, but then titled his head.

"It is good that she went, though I will miss her. She kept you good company _and_ told many hilarious stories of you that I would never have heard otherwise."

"Honestly?" she chided him. "Did you need to bring those up?"

"Yes," he stated, drawing his hand slowly down her side, careful over her ribs. "That was the reason I enjoyed her company so much. Do you think Aragorn will return in time for the birth?"

Enguina winced. "I do not know. He was full of regret about it, but it was necessary for him to go. He clearly did not want to leave me or Arwen either, but he had no choice. As I said, things have been difficult for Arwen—people talk, their looks…she has been hurting. Leaving her alone with this…brood of vipers was very hard on him." She sighed. "She was sleeping here since Erumar went away; I do not know if it was because she did not want me to be alone, or _she_ did not want to be alone. Either way, it served a purpose. She had a dream the other night that she would not explain to me."

Her eyes closed at the feel of his hand and he smiled. "Are you all right?"

"More than all right," she whispered in reply, her nails scratching his back. "Please tell me about Gimli. How is he? What is his new home like?"

"Oh, the dwarf sends all of his love to you and congratulations. His kin were quite merry and celebrated the life of the child at least three times while I was there," he told her, watching her face as he traced her skin over her back and down to her thigh. "The reason it took me so long to get here was that they gave me a cart laden with gifts pulled by mountain goats."

"Goats?"

"Yes, and a pony for our son."

"Truly?" she asked, astonished at the outpouring of love they were receiving from Gondor and the Glittering Caves. "I cannot believe the number of gifts that people wish to give. I know it is our first child, but…I am incredibly moved by it."

"There was so much that I had to give much of it away," he admitted. "But there were some gifts only for us, and I will show them all to you when we get home."

"You can see all of the things that we received from the Gondorians before we go to the King's House later for dinner."

"If we make it for dinner," he said seductively, raising his eyebrows as he leaned forward to kiss her again. "The Glittering Caves are stunning. One day, when the child is old enough, we will take him there to see his Uncle Gimli. You should see his gift of the pony," he added as he lowered his mouth beneath her chin again. "Radost is her name."

She closed her eyes again but this time in response to his wandering hand, not his lips. "Radost? What is she like? Oh, a pony for our child…"

"She is as hardy as Firgenwine, but a bit more athletic-looking, not quite as stout. But she is nearly roan I would say, with tufts on her feet. She is every bit as fiery, and perhaps a bit grumpier."

She giggled as she shivered under his lips. "How was your journey here?" _Oh…that feels…_

"Mmm…tedious without you." His lips were making their way lower and down her chest.

"You could kiss me like that all day," she whispered, "and I would beg for more. I have missed you so much, Legolas."

"When I saw you this morning," he said, resting his forehead against her chest, "it was as though I was seeing you for the first time. You and the lilacs confounded my senses. You are still doing it. Forgive me if you want me to stop, but I cannot seem to stop touching you. I cannot keep my hands from your satiny skin."

"You know…I was going to try and pretend that I was angry with you," she said, swallowing the whimper that suddenly came to her lips. "I was going to play hard to get…"

"You? Play hard to get?" he murmured incredulously. "You enjoy this far too much. How long did that thought last?"

She let out the breath she had been holding at his teasing of her with his fingers massaging the back of her knee. "Three days…and then I laid eyes on you." She dragged her foot along his leg, leaving her knee hooked over his thigh. He smiled as he followed the inside of her thigh and her eyes rolled back into her head. His lips were coming down to her breast again, and he could feel her heart pounding against his mouth. She gasped and writhed once at his hands. "It is…too difficult to stay angry with you for taking so long to come home," she said quickly trying to get the words out before she lost track of them. Then she did moan aloud, making him smile. "And it is hard to do anything that requires focus _when you are touching me like that_!"

"A pleasant surprise for me, to be sure," he whispered, beginning to use his tongue on sensitive places. He felt her hand grip his back. "Did I disturb any plans that you had for the day, my love?"

"Um…" Her brain was fuzzy with arousal, and he knew it very well. "No, there was nothing. Dinner…that I am too lazy to care if we miss."

"Lazy? Making love is not laziness," he whispered and she groaned softly, dragging her hands up and down his back again before winding one in his hair. "Enguina…do you want to have this child in Minas Tirith?"

"Is that what you would like?" she asked breathlessly. He planted a kiss in the center of her chest.

"I am willing to let you make the choice," he said, returning to kissing her breast between muttering, "I would prefer, of course, that if the child is to be born at home that you will not travel at nine months and fall into labor on the return home. I do _not_ want to bring our child into the world on the side of the main road…or a field in Ithilien."

"Oh…not…even _our_ beautiful field in Ithilien?" Her eyes were definitely rolling into her head; she could hardly believe that she had formed a coherent sentence.

"Not even there."

"I have no intention of—" She gasped and writhed once more beneath his hands. " _Legolas!_ "

"No intention of what, my Guin?"

" _Legolas…_ "

"No intention of what?"

"Ah…of _waiting_ that long." She moaned, low and soft as she felt him nibbling at her skin. "I think we…need to travel in the next few weeks. I would rather have the baby born at home." She finished quickly and held both of her lips between her teeth.

"A plan it will be, then."

She trembled as his hands and mouth continued. "If…if we are meeting Arwen for dinner…you are going to have to stop that…"

"Stop which part?" he asked, smiling wickedly as he pressed his lips beneath her right breast.

"All of it," she groaned. "Or I will _never_ let you stop."

"Can I not give you a massage?"

" _God, Legolas!_ " she cried out, her body pressing into him beyond her control. "This is _not_ a massage," she groaned breathlessly. "This is purposeful arousal…I hope you are…going to do something about it." She hissed when she felt his teeth in a very sensitive place.

"You are right," he admitted. "This _is_ purposely arousing you. And I have full intentions of doing something about it and no intention of either one of us ever making it to dinner tonight. We can meet at the King's House for breakfast; I want to stay focused on you."

"Arwen—"

"Will completely understand," he said again, and she found his mouth against hers for a slow, wonderful kiss that swallowed his name that she had been about to call aloud again. She was his forever; she did not think she would ever be physically capable of telling him no or restraining him without his desire to restrain himself. At the moment, she was already so far gone that she did not care.

* * *

It was _very_ early morning. Unable to sleep or feel as though she wanted to remain in the King's House any longer, Arwen had gone to the stable, followed by her personal singular guard, and found Asfaloth whinnying with joy at the sight of her. She had ridden quietly down to the lowest level of the City, Asfaloth's plodding hooves upon the stones and the few people's cries of good morning not allowing her to think about much of anything. There were not many on the streets, but those who were appeared glad to see her; she was humbled by it, as always. When she was with Aragorn, he was respected, revered, and loved, but she was always in awe when they treated her this way. Children awake on the first level hurried forward to touch Asfaloth, their mothers touching her hand in greeting while men bowed their heads in respect to her royalty and beauty. She was continuously humbled by their admiration. It both pleased and embarrassed her; she knew that not all of them thought about her what she had been feeling they had. Many of them simply wanted the best for them.

A single figure stepped in front of her at the gate; the old man, Hallamegil, had been reassigned from Rammas Echor to gatekeeper at Minas Tirith and was quite serious of his new position.

"My Lady Evenstar!" he exclaimed. "I would've thought my eyes deceived me. You're here awfully early this morning!"

She smiled at him. "Good morning, Master Gatekeeper," she greeted him. "Asfaloth and I are out for a run this morning. I understand the hour is early, but he wanted to go." The big grey snorted, tossing his head with energy and dancing sideways before the closed gate.

The old man held up his hands. "It's been quite a while since you've been on the Pelennor on your own, my Queen. The Lord of the City or the Princess are usually with you."

"Did you not watch the Prince enter only yesterday?" she teased him.

"Oh, my terrible memory!" he said, striking himself once on the forehead. "Forgive me!"

"And of course, my Lord is away."

"It's dangerous to be out on your own," he said, concerned, and he nodded to the guard a pace behind her. "You should've at least the one guard with you; it's just common sense, my Lady."

"Asfaloth will only outrun him," she said as the horse raised his head imperiously. "Though Celdar is more than welcome to trail along behind us at a distance. And I do not mean to turn aside your concern, but…I have been riding longer than you, your father, or your father's father have been alive. I shall be perfectly fine."

"Well," he said, looking down, "the King'd never forgive me if I let something happen to you. It's not safe outside the City, Lady, and—"

Asfaloth pawed the ground and the guardsman stepped back. "Please, Hallamegil, I am the best rider," she said; she just wanted to be free from the City, free from all of it. "Let me pass."

"Even better than my Lord, the King?"

"Even better," she replied. Hallamegil laughed.

"Very well, my Lady. Please be careful and ride safely; I'd never be forgiven if something went wrong." He signaled to the men waiting nearby. "Open this gate!"

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, and the moment the gate opened, Asfaloth walked out to stand on the open road. The big grey tossed his head and pulled his nose all the way into his chest. He then proceeded, every muscle twitching in anticipation, to piaffe in the center of the road, and several farmers who had paused to lift their heads at the opening of the gate were transfixed by the beauty of him.

Arwen glanced behind her and looked to Celdan who stood still as well, his horse disciplined and still. She gave him a little smile. "Why do you not ride up the center of the road to the far gate? We can meet there."

Celdan frowned. "I should not let you travel alone."

She shook her head. "I am afraid your sorrel shall not keep pace with Asfaloth. You shall be far, far behind us anyway. I will meet you there, and we can finish the other half of the loop of Rammas Echor together. Please." He sighed, clearly frustrated, but knowing that she was right, he asked his horse to move forward, whereas Asfaloth remained slowly piaffing near the gate.

She reached down and stroked his neck as he snorted. "You and I, Asfaloth, we know each other too well. I know what you want, and you know exactly what I want." He snorted, and she lifted her head for a moment and stared out across the open Pelennor, the sun just beginning to peek its head far off to the east. She tapped him gently with her right ankle and he spun on his haunches toward the left, lifting his feet off the ground to turn on the spot. He remained, his weight on his haunches, waiting for her to ask him for lift-off.

She would never have denied him; she wanted the run much more than he knew. Asfaloth felt her hands loosen on the reins and he was gone in a flash of silver, dust from the road spewing out from beneath his hooves. Putting the voices behind them, the grey bolted down alongside the wall, staying far from the farms and villages that surrounded the Field. He thundered along, racing the wind and tearing up the ground. She delighted in his speed, the power in his body, the way his head surged forward and his ears flipped about, listening to the wind, listening for her voice. Her hair whipped back from her face as he thrust himself along, running flat out.

She let him run; the only thing she wanted right now was to escape everything, and this was the way to do it. She had been worried about her back, but it seemed to finally be completely healed. Thinking of nothing all the way from the sixth to the first level was fine, but now she was forced to think of it. Last night had been unbearable; she had no idea why she had attempted to sleep in their bed. She had known since before Aragorn left that it would have been impossible without him; he had been gone only a week, and even clutching his pillow, breathing in the scent of him, had not helped her one bit. The nightmare, the dark-haired woman, haunted her, and this time, she had held a babe in her hands. She had been unable to wake up from the dream—it had gone _so_ far…this woman pleasuring her husband, even the thought of it brought hot tears unbidden to her eyes and bile to rise in her throat.

Upon waking from this nightmare, she went to the divan, where she also tried to sleep. Within an hour, she was screaming in agony, this time from the child. Ailan, who was the acting Captain, had stationed Liakas at her door at night; security _was_ stricter within the City now. Liakas had entered at once; woken her from shaking on the floor. Gasping for breath and trying to rein in the nightmare was nigh impossible, and the guard did not know what to do for her; several times he tried to leave and get help, but she refused him, telling him not to worry when she could get the words out. Finally, when she was able to breathe at least a bit normally, she had apologized; he had told her he was glad that she was all right and after urging from her, he returned to his post.

But she was _not_ all right; he would not know this. The moment he walked out the door, she spent the better part of an hour weeping, forcing herself not to cry for Aragorn and reach for him. There was nothing he could do for her now, and she would only hurt him. In her agony, she knew there was no way she was going to sleep. She finally went out to the porch and sat, staring out into the night as she prayed fervently for a miracle, and that Ilúvatar might take her pain from her. Finally, when at least some of her pain had receded, she reached out and touched her husband, desperate for him. She knew he was asleep, but even the blessing of the peace she felt from him as he was resting was enough. Then she had headed for the stable, Liakas following her.

She found herself there for some time, lying beside Asfaloth in the hay; somehow, he always knew when she was sad. She had curled up against him, laying her head on his smooth coat, winding her fingers in and out of his mane. Then she had brushed him and given him treats…and then had saddled him up at his urging and was gone into the City before any sort of decent hour, and that was when she was joined by Celdan.

She should be back for breakfast if Asfaloth continued running at this pace, but she was unworried. If Enguina wanted, she and Legolas could easily cook and then wait for her to return. Part of her was desperate for some comfort from her friend; she could easily tell her about the dream and what had happened last night, but…Enguina had enough worries of her own with the child and now Legolas had returned. No, she was not about to burden and trouble her with them.

Asfaloth began to slow his pace to a normal lope, smooth and comfortable. He wanted to prolong their time along the wall as well it seemed, and she reached down again to pat his neck. He was sweating; the day was quite humid. Her thoughts were jumbled, upsetting, but the ride was serving its purpose; she needed something to take pleasure in, something to take her mind from the madness that her life had been so full of. It was in that settling that she felt him touch her mind. It was a soft touch, full of a calmness that she wished she felt herself, a crisp morning somewhere near the Anduin. She could almost hear the birds chirping as she closed her eyes, the river running… It was a caress from him, and she closed her eyes. It was too far; there were no words, of course, but it gave her peace in knowing that he was reaching for her, too. Whether he was doing it for her benefit or for his, she did not know, but it made her feel so suddenly loved that her eyes filled with tears. She _reached_ back with her love, so glad that she was taking this time, that Asfaloth had urged her.

 _Father, I thank you for the many gifts you have bestowed upon me. I thank you for this blessing of my connection with my husband, that even though we are far apart, we are still close. I praise you that I can seek your face and enjoy your creation with a good friend. Help me to be strong because of you; I cannot do this alone. I…I see that now more than ever. Please, take care of my husband; I miss him so much._

She let Asfaloth run, and she lifted her face to the sun and soaked it up for the first time in what seemed like ages.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's Note: Thank you, Wickedgreene13, for your review! :O)

* * *

Arwen walked up the front steps to the King's House, her morning ride with Asfaloth one of the most wonderful things she had done since Aragorn had left. Her heart felt a bit lighter, and coming back through the city did not weigh on her as it had; she ignored any looks and simply greeted the people, who seemed more than happy to see her and inquire after Enguina's health as well. She opened the door and her eyes immediately fell on the back of Enguina's head as she and Legolas were seated at the table. The elf leapt to his feet and he reached for her as she grinned.

"Oh, _Legolas!_ " she cried. "It is so _good_ to see you! I am so glad you have finally come!"

He laughed, hugging her tightly. "It is good to see _you_ as well! I am delighted to once again be in Minas Tirith." He kissed her cheek and held her back from him, cupping her face in his hand; he knew he had not seen her in nearly four years, but she should not have lost weight in that time. That should have been impossible for her, as she had already lost weight from the time she had been ill that she had never regained. "You are as beautiful as ever."

"And you, to be a Father," she said, staring into his eyes. "You never thought this day would come. I am so glad that it has."

"You are right," he agreed, thinking briefly of the past. "I never thought I would wed, and I never thought I would have children. I thought I would be alone forever."

"Thank Ilúvatar," she said, tears in her eyes.

"I praise him without ceasing," he said, releasing her. "Enguina told me that Aragorn is not here. That saddens me."

"Oh, he wanted to be here," she agreed sadly. "He wanted to tell you in person how joyful he was at hearing Enguina was with child. We thanked Ilúvatar together, and have prayed every night since for you and the child; sometimes collectively, and now, of course, independently. But we are praying."

"Thank you," said Enguina, grinning, and Arwen looked over at her before leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. "Where were _you_ this morning? Though I think I might know. You only have that smile on your face and dirt on you when you have been—"

"Riding," Legolas said. "How is Asfaloth these days?"

"Wonderful," she said. "I woke early, so I went to the stable to spend some time with him. Then I thought, why not? We only just returned."

"Early? How early?" Legolas asked, confused. "You were riding on the Pelennor; that requires some time, Arwen."

"It was early," she repeated. Enguina let it go for the moment.

"Perhaps we could have joined you," Enguina said.

"Not running like this," Arwen admitted. "We both needed it, and that would not be healthy for you at this time, dearest."

"Um…I vote definitely no," Legolas said as the two of them took seats. "There will be _no_ running for you, unless I am chasing you and you are on your own two feet."

She giggled. "My husband, such a charmer."

"By the by," Legolas said, looking to Arwen, "you will have to forgive me for yesterday. I had no idea you were in the garden, and I must admit that I had eyes for only one person."

Enguina placed her hand over Arwen's. "I am terribly sorry as well."

"I am not," she replied, giving them both a smile. "Though I obviously would be _unable_ to do the same; if I were in your position I would have not had eyes for anything else either. Aragorn has been gone for a month or two, time and again…it is difficult to be apart. I understand."

Legolas tapped the table in front of Enguina. "I told you so."

Enguina rolled her eyes as Arwen smiled. "That does not give us an excuse to be so…brazen and selfish. We are supposed to think of others before ourselves."

"I _did_ ," Legolas insisted. "I was thinking of _you_ before myself."

"Ugh…" Enguina said, dropping her head in her hands as Arwen laughed out loud. "Sometimes you are so…so…"

"Hilarious? Ridiculous?" he offered, quite a grin on his face. "You know, before you met me, you were probably more…how shall I say it? Proper? Yes, I suppose that is the word. Now, well…it has all been going downhill." He shrugged. "Ah well."

"Legolas, you were always proper as well," Arwen said, raising an eyebrow. "It is only a recent development that you have become the most determined flirt that anyone of us has ever met."

" _That_ is true," he sighed. "You know, I think I must get that from my father. He does not appear that way, but…you would be surprised."

"It makes you a bit impossible sometimes," Enguina said and he covered her hands with his own. "What?"

"But you still love it," he said.

"I do," she admitted. "I love the fact that you thought of nothing but me yesterday, but at least I have the decency to feel guilty about it."

"At least I apologized," he said, attempting to defend himself.

"He did," Arwen said. "In fact, before you did."

Enguina turned and gaped at her. "Honestly? You are taking _his_ side?"

"I was only pointing out that in a way, he was right. You cannot be too angry with him." She buttered a slice of bread and took a bite. "Mmm…I am so glad I made bread yesterday."

"I am as well," Legolas said. "Delicious." He squeezed Enguina's hands and raised his eyebrows at her. "Was it wrong to take the afternoon and evening to love my wife? To remind her how much I care for her?" She met his eyes over the table. He lowered his voice, his face so serious. "To make sure she was so tired she finally received a good night's sleep?"

"Oh _you!_ " Enguina exclaimed, blushing and pulling her hands away as Arwen laughed again.

"You two are so good for my soul," she said. "I have missed you both when you were away these past few years. Sometimes, things are so quiet here."

"And Aragorn is not as funny as I am," Legolas admitted.

"Not in quite the same way, that much is certain." They continued to eat breakfast as Enguina chatted about showing Legolas a few of the gifts this morning. Arwen noticed that Legolas kept glancing over at her without really staring, but she was not blind to it. Finally, she smiled and looked over at him.

"Legolas, why do you keep looking at me that way? What is it you need to say?"

He met her eyes. "You have been ill," he said softly. "Have you not? I…It has been a little while since I have seen you, but Enguina had not told me you had been ill."

"Legolas…" Enguina said softly but Arwen did not mind answering the question. Or…affirming the statement, as it were.

"I am fine," she said. "These last few weeks have been…difficult."

"Enguina did say that," he said, still studying her face. "You… _have_ been ill though, yes?"

" _Legolas…_ " Enguina said again, this time a bit more strongly. "Leave her be."

"I was," Arwen replied softly. "For a brief time…something foolish. I think I would rather not speak of it."

"You? Foolish?" Legolas said. "I cannot imagine that."

"Now honestly," Enguina said, giving Legolas a hard look across the table. "I think I gave you enough warnings and she gave you one of her own. Please…drop it."

He lifted his hands, surprised at her irritation with him. "Oh, do not be angry," Arwen said, laying a hand on Enguina's arm. "He means no harm. But I would rather not, Legolas; you understand."

He paused, changing what he was about to say. "You did not rest well either last night, did you?"

"No," she admitted, "but that is fine. I was happy to be with Asfaloth. All is well."

"Enguina did mention to me about the stoning," he said softly as he took another piece of bread. He allowed no expression to reach his face; showing nothing of his feelings of that on the outside. "What an awful thing for those men to do."

"I am…surprised you are so calm about it," Arwen said in his tone, looking away from his face. "I feel terrible about it; I have since it happened and I…cannot say more about it. I was, however, charged by Aragorn with a duty that I can now relieve myself of. Vändir sits in prison awaiting further sentencing from you if that is your desire."

Legolas stared at her, and even Enguina lifted her head. "What?" he asked.

"Aragorn told him that his sentencing would not be finished and that you had the final word," Arwen restated. "Enguina is the Princess of Ithilien and your wife, therefore, Vändir is subject to the law of your kingdom as well. You may do with him as you will."

Enguina, feeling sick to her stomach, watched Legolas's hands curl into fists. "I do not think anyone wants me within ten meters of that man," he said darkly.

"That is your right," Arwen said, "and no one can tell you otherwise. Aragorn gave it to you. At some point, you will have to declare that Aragorn's sentence stands, or dictate the terms of your own."

"Can we…talk about this some other time?" Enguina asked softly, lying her hand on her belly. She could not bear the thought of Legolas sentencing this man to death, even if he had nearly killed her and the child. It was too awful.

"Of course," Legolas said immediately, brightening, dropping the subject altogether.

Arwen tilted her head and chose a topic. "Tell me of Gimli. How is he?"

"He has done quite well for himself and his people; he loves his new home and would be happy to receive the Evening Star whenever she wishes to come. His words, of course. He also wishes me to say, though Erumar is not here, that he hopes to hear tidings of more children coming his way." He laughed rolling his eyes, unaware that both Enguina and Arwen's stomachs tightened into knots. "But Gimli himself is _very_ well; I was telling Enguina that he even gave us a pony for our son to ride when he is old enough."

"Gimli is so foolish sometimes," Enguina said, trying to force away her uncomfortable feelings at Legolas's words and how they must have struck Arwen though they were not meant to. "Erumar is nowhere near having a child, especially not with _Thranduil_. She would not dare. Where did he get _that_ idea?"

"I am certain he meant Éowyn or Arwen, of course," Legolas said, a bit concerned Enguina would even _mention_ his father in connection with children. "Or perhaps he was simply stating that more births would be wonderful to get news of and he did not care who the child was for." Arwen worked to keep the comment as it was meant, a plea for joy coming from her and Aragorn as well, but she could hardly keep the sickening feeling out of her chest. "So Aragorn is abroad, hmm?" he directed towards her. "It simply had to be that way, I guess. I wish he were here; I want his advice."

"His advice?" Arwen asked, jumping on the opportunity to leave the subject. "I do not think it is possible that he will return before you journey home. Enguina will be seven months in a few days; perhaps it would be best for you to journey home before late September. He will have only just arrived near the Northern borders by that time."

"I thought," Legolas said with a smile, "that he could either give me his advice or he would be willing to deliver our baby, though I did not discuss that with my wife yet." He said the last sheepishly when Enguina's head came up at his words.

Arwen smiled. "I know he wishes he were here," she said. "But I think he would have told you that a midwife would be much better for you; though I know he does feel that it is a truly great privilege to be there, to experience it."

"Perhaps if I had been present for a birth," Legolas said, shaking his head, "I would not be so worried. It has begun to weigh on me…the unknown. I thought his advice would ease my mind."

"You never seem worried," Enguina said, and he took her hands across the table. "You always seem so calm when we have spoken of it." He could feel her thoughts racing through his mind. _If you are worried, how much more should I be?_

 _Shh…I worry for you. I want everything to be perfect, for you and our child to be safe. With Aragorn here, the odds are infinitely better._

"I am calm," he said aloud. "I would simply like to increase the likelihood that all will be well by having Aragorn at my side."

"I wish I could travel back with you," Arwen said suddenly, and Enguina looked over at her. "I wish I could travel to Ithilien and be with you when you give birth." Her eyes were on the bread again and Enguina suddenly wondered how much more at peace she would be with Arwen at her side, and then she wondered if Arwen really could handle that. But perhaps that part did not matter…not if Arwen wished to be there herself…Ilúvatar would take care of her.

She looked directly across the table to Legolas. "Legolas…we…we _could_ stay here in Minas Tirith…"

"We could?" he asked softly, surprised at her words.

"No, no," Arwen said, shaking her head. "I would not want you to—"

"The Healers in the Houses are definitely the best," she said slowly, thinking to herself and ignoring Arwen's protests. "Not as many of your kin have arrived and begun living in Ithilien as we thought by this time; what if the midwife is not very good? Children are born here all the time, and Lasgalen has had no children in many years. They already know me as well. And _I_ would be easier if Arwen were with me, especially now that Erumar has traveled, and she should not very well leave Minas Tirith with the King absent and by that time winter will be on its way. She might not be able to make it back, although if we stay here we shall have to stay through the winter months…"

"That is arguing against," Legolas pointed out, but laughed. "Enguina, I will be completely honest with you. I think there are many arguments that can be made for both situations, but I will be pleased if we remain, and I will be happy if you want to go." He winked at Arwen. "And though I do not think the decision needs to be made right now, I will be all right if you change your mind ten times between now and then."

Enguina raised one eyebrow. "Are you teasing me because I am indecisive?"

"Never," he said with a little smile. "By all means, let us stay if that will ease your mind. It may ease mine as well."

"Please," Arwen said, setting her hand on the table between them, "do not stay on my account. You came to deliver the news of the child's birth, not the child himself. I…did not mean to sway your decision."

"We are staying," Enguina said, and Legolas nodded. "I am happy with it." She turned and smiled at Arwen. "There! Now we shall only have to speak with the Houses and make them aware when November draws nigh."

Arwen was amazed by how relieved she felt that Enguina had made the decision to stay in Minas Tirith—at least for now. "I am glad," she admitted.

"Me too," Enguina said with an even bigger smile. "Oh, how I wanted you close and did not know how to ask. This solves everything."

Legolas laughed. "You will simply have to put up with us now for at least six months; we will not be able to travel back to Ithilien once the baby is born. I shall have to send messengers to our kin to care for Radost while we are away when winter draws near."

"Oh, good," Arwen said, smiling back at him. "I had hoped you would say that. I knew that if you were going to travel it would have to be soon, otherwise, it will be far too cold. You will have to stay until spring at least." That was a good prospect.

"I was worried for that too," Legolas added. "And traveling with Enguina when she would be so heavy with child would not be good for anyone."

"Stop worrying," Enguina said. "I thought I was worried, and now I want to not have to think about it for a little while. We have settled this and we are staying here for the time being, so we need not be anxious. Seriously, for either one of you."

Legolas stared at her. "Imagine, my wife telling _me_ not to be anxious. Will wonders never cease."

"I am going to trust Ilúvatar with this baby," she insisted. "He will tell us what we need to do when it is time, yes? I am determined to remember it is all in his hands." She rested her hand on Arwen's. "Yes? Everything is in his hands."

"You certainly have been," Arwen said softly. "He protected and shielded you, and we praise him for that. He is taking care of Aragorn and our soldiers as well, and guiding Erumar to a place where she can take some real rest. I am glad for all of it."

"Did Erumar send a letter saying she was going to arrive?"

Enguina shook her head. "I do not believe she did. I think she was simply going to show up."

Legolas laughed. "Well, that will please my father immensely! That is a bold move for her though. He will have so much to show her; he will be at home in his element. She will have so much to enjoy there. She needs room to breathe; I hope that Eryn Lasgalen will give her that. She…probably could be quite happy there if she allowed herself.

"Yes," Arwen agreed, "if she allowed herself."

"Oh, I wish I was going to be there," Enguina said wistfully. "Erumar is going to be so hilariously embarrassed by your father the whole time she is there."

"Come now, he is not all that bad. He will only tease her when she is unsuspecting," Legolas said, grinning. "He is…much more gentlemanly than myself."

"You were a gentleman _before_ we were wed," Enguina teased, nudging his boot with her foot beneath the table. He raised an eyebrow and she did the same with hers. "Admit it…it used to be true."

Arwen watched their exchange and had to smile. They were deliriously happy with one another; they were the perfect match. They balanced one another so perfectly. Arwen had never seen two people that she could have been happier for, and to know that the two of them would soon become three was beyond anything her heart could ever have hoped for. Enguina with child? The same girl who had run from every man for the longest of time? When Enguina had come to Minas Tirith, she had been ready to sail to the Undying Lands—now when Arwen looked at her she was vibrant and more alive than she had ever been. Arwen was so thankful to Ilúvatar that she could not stop praising him in her heart.

* * *

Legolas had been in Minas Tirith for two whole weeks and had not yet been able to put the stoning out of his mind. Every time he looked at Enguina, he could imagine the bruising on her back and hip, watch her wince as she pulled the broken ribs that were still healing. He could see her in his mind's eye, huddled against that wall, Erumar protecting her, being smashed in the head with rocks—ugh, it made him sick. Arwen would not talk about it; he had to speak to the Healers to find out what had really happened as he tried not to mention it around Enguina. The Healers told him everything he had wanted to know and now it was stewing in his mind; his anger had been festering for over a week. Enguina was now seven months pregnant…and he was unable to think of anything but her.

The one picture in his mind that clung to him like the stench of death was one of Aragorn, sitting in the stable, his arms wrapped around his knees and his face pressed to them as he wept over the loss of his child. He had seen the man upset, but never more broken than he had been in that moment. He was _terrified_ that it could have been him; he was _terrified_ that Enguina could have been the one waking in the night and weeping, crying over their lost baby. He remembered too well the moment when Aragorn had taken Arwen from Enguina's arms the first night after they had known the truth and he had carried her to their bedroom where she had cried for so long, unable to sleep, and then barely able to eat come morning. The incredible grief…the failed expectations that were still continuing. No, no, _no!_ That would _not_ be him; that would _not_ be Enguina. _Eru forbid it!_ He was more thankful than he could ever pray for Erumar; for being in that place at that time, and for sacrificing herself to protect Enguina.

It was time to confront Vändir; it was time to make his displeasure known. The man's fate would rest on this day, on this confrontation.

It was the perfect morning for it. He had been awake early, and when Enguina woke as he was dressing, he noticed that she was dizzy, not feeling well. He had lulled her back to sleep with the touch of his hand in her hair, telling her he was going to take a walk, get muffins, and be back before she knew it. She had smiled and had gone back to sleep. He then had left the guesthouse, walking directly to the prison. He had not lied—he _was_ going for a walk. It was simply a walk with a purpose. He greeted the guards at the gate and explained exactly why he was there; they knew of course, and they were prepared. He only waited a few minutes before they led him to a small room where the prisoner was seated at a small table, his hands tied to the chair, another chair for Legolas if he chose.

He did not sit.

"Prince Legolas," the guard said from behind him, "do you want me to remain as a witness?"

"Outside the door," he said. "You need not close it. This is no private hearing."

The guard took up his post just outside the door, Legolas just inside it. He willed his hands to stay at his sides before they reached for Vändir's throat. The former councilman lifted his head at his visitor and narrowed his eyes.

"Come to give the rest of the sentence, hmm?" Vändir's first words made Legolas's blood stir. This was not a good indication of regret or any show of a contrite heart. Legolas's jaw clenched as his icy blue eyes bored holes through the man's face.

"You were once a man of the Council," Legolas said, trying to keep his voice even when he wanted to shout. "You were charged with the care and protection of Gondor's citizens. Why would you do it? Why would you lay your hands on my wife? Why would you take a stone and throw it at her? _Why?_ " There was a moment's pause; neither man spoke. " _Speak_ _ **!**_ " he snapped, losing patience.

"I don't need to explain anything to _you_."

"I am the one who controls whether you leave this room a man in chains or a man condemned to death," he spat. "You might want to at least appear as though you regret what you did."

"It was the heat of the moment," Vändir threw out. "I didn't mean to start throwing rocks at her; it just happened."

"It 'happened?'" he asked, his voice quieter now. "What had been your intention? Why did you approach her from the first?"

"I was drunk," he admitted. "I wasn't thinking clearly, and Gildion helped my anger along."

"Why did you approach her from the first?" he asked again.

Vändir glared at him. "I was pissed off about the Queen. They're bedding each other all the time; it isn't any secret. _Our_ Queen should be the one seven months with child, not yours. Normally, no one'd care, but she came here all parading herself around…disgusting." He spat on the ground. "And walking around with the Queen, especially. Who gave her the right—"

"Who gave _you_ the right?" Legolas asked fiercely. "Whether the Queen of Gondor was with child or not, who gave you the right to attack my wife? She committed no crime. Your envy of her gives you no right to attack her. Just because you want your Queen to have an heir gives you no right to accuse mine of doing anything wrong."

"It doesn't matter to _you_ if the King of Gondor has a—"

"It _matters_ , you filthy son of an orc," Legolas suddenly snarled, "but we are speaking of two different issues. One speaks from a heart of compassion, the other speaks from one of _hatred,_ jealousy, and a desire to cause others pain. We know which one you have acted out of, Vändir. Take a look at your act, which caused two men to lose their lives."

"I didn't kill him!" he shouted. "Gildion did that!"

"And what of the stones you were hurling at my wife and unborn child?" Legolas snapped. "Who will take responsibility for those? You tried to kill them, yet you say your drunkenness was what caused it. What is the truth?"

"I hate her." The words were muttered, under his breath, but they were there.

They gave Legolas pause and then his eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"I _hate_ her!" Vändir hissed, his eyes aflame with lunacy. "I _hate_ that she came here with her head in the clouds, over the moon about havin' a baby. I _hate_ that she thinks she can just lay some comfort on the Queen and that'll fix everything. I _hate_ that she thinks everyone in this City is simply _fine_ with her showin' off how happy she is when the rest of us are still waiting! She _should've_ died, in fact! I wish she was dead. If my King can't have a child, you don't deserve one either!"

"You are mad," Legolas said, this time with astonishment, not anger. "How could one be the same in your mind? How could they be connected? It makes no sense! You wish her death because you believe the wife of the King to be barren, one is unconnected to the other! And you are wrong, Vändir! You have always been wrong!"

"She _is_ barren!" Vändir shouted, spit flying from his mouth. "All the Healers know it! The Queen will never bear a child; _ask_ them! Women'd throw themselves at the feet of Elessar to bring him a child; he must choose one of them! He must choose a woman who can give him what he needs! Even _your_ wife! She's with child; she's not barren; let _her—_ "

Legolas slapped him across the face, breaking his tirade. "You have no right to include my wife in such an adulterous rant. You have no understanding; you have no compassion. All that is in your heart is anger, and slander…and ridicule. You were once an honorable man of Gondor before your fall from position and power; now…you are detestable. At one time, I may have pitied you."

Vändir spat at Legolas and the elf stepped back before he could be touched. "You bring about your own punishment, Vändir. You have given me no reason why a man such as yourself should live. Who would kill an unborn child and an innocent woman by stoning when their deaths would do nothing to bring about the birth that they want? Will you take no responsibility for your—"

"I wanted her _dead_!" he shouted, rocking on the chair he was tied to. "I wanted the three of them dead, even the other woman who was with her. You don't belong here—none of you! The time of your race is ended! If I could kill the Queen and have Elessar take another, a mortal, I'd do it! I don't want to see another elf as long as I live!"

Legolas straightened, staring down at the man. "You will never again have the privilege," he stated, though his voice was firm and as cold as the iciness in his eyes. "By the power given to me in law by the King of the Reunited Kingdom, I sentence you, Vändir, to be hanged. You deserve the same fate as the man who killed. You wanted them dead, my wife, my unborn child, the Lady; you sought their death; and you have now threatened the life of the Queen of Gondor. Not one will mourn the man you have become. Pray for some remorse, Vändir, as it is the only course you have left."

He turned his back as Vändir began hollering and cursing behind him, mostly unintelligible words. He did catch a few about Enguina and the child, even Arwen as the guard closed the door on him; Legolas stood still just after it, trying to force his hands to unclench. The guard came up and stood before the elf, looking into his face.

"How long has he been this way?" Legolas asked, his voice softer now as he was regaining control of himself. "How long has he been so full of madness?"

"Since the day he came, my Lord," the guard replied. "He has been spouting obscenities about the Queen and your wife for the past two weeks, such slander and anger I have never heard in a captive. No remorse about what he had done; the ale had hurried him along, but it seems that he has been festering over what happened years ago for many years. He did not have many allies within the City, but after the sentencing of the King, some came forward and said he had been dealing with this madness for years since his loss of his position."

"You heard his words?"

"I would testify to it and more, Prince Legolas," he said firmly. "The man is worthy of the penalty of death; his deeds would have taken the lives of three, and by his words, the life of another."

Legolas was quiet for a moment, as If weighing something in his mind. "See that it is done, with as little fanfare as needed; he does not deserve it. Notify whatever family and friends he may have left."

"Tomorrow morning, my Lord?"

Legolas nodded. "If all is in place."

"Yes, Prince Legolas. You need not attend."

"I am the one who gave the sentence," he said firmly. "I shall stand by it."

* * *

It was almost nine o'clock by the time Legolas slipped past the front door of the guesthouse carrying two bags, one loaded with muffins and the other a surprise. Listening as he closed the door, he could hear her quiet breathing; she was yet asleep, for she had an uncomfortable time sleeping last evening, unable to find a position that was any good. He had to smile though; she thought he hated it when she slept in, but he secretly loved watching her sleep. He crept to the doorway, second bag in hand, and leaned his shoulder against it, watching her in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He could clearly see their child under the sheet, even though she was lying on her side.

The words of Vändir made him sick to his stomach, that he had _wished_ her dead…that he wished _all_ of them dead. How could you wish someone you barely knew to be dead? How could you wish a baby not yet born, death? He _could_ have let Aragorn's sentence stand…but it was too lenient. Did he not deserve death, just as Bragolaur had deserved it? Enguina was his wife; she was his whole heart, and now the baby she carried inside her. The words of Arwen from two weeks ago came back to him; he had never dreamed he would be a father, had never even truly wanted it until he had met her. Now, the possibilities were endless, and he could not imagine losing either one of them…not ever.

Legolas made his way to her side and carefully took down the cover as to not wake her. She did not move, but he gently rolled her onto her back, making sure she had two pillows to support her and she was not flat. He was truly amazed she was not awake by this point, but pleased, nonetheless. He reached down and slowly rolled up the hem of her nightdress, exposing the baby to his sight. He leaned down and gently kissed her skin, rubbing his nose against her.

"Good morning, little one," he whispered. "Your father is here now, you need not worry for you or your mother. You are in a safe place of quiet and rest, and there will be protection from all earthly harm. Ilúvatar's arms surround you, care for you, just as mine would. I love you, little one, with all of my heart. You and your mother are the greatest treasures in the world. I adore and cherish her, as sometime soon you will see when you come and meet us. I love you."

He reached over and opened the package he had brought, removing a jar. "I bought this for your mother," he said, opening it up and rubbing it on his hands. "I thought that perhaps while you listen to me sing to you, I could make her feel loved as well. Shall we see?"

Bending down, he pressed his lips to her womb again, and then began gently massaging the cream into her skin. It was very smooth, and he had made sure it was warm before he laid his hands on her. A light scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled the bedroom. He went slowly, sure that he would not miss a single part of her belly. As he caressed her, he sang softly to the child:

 _As you sleep, my little one_

 _Dream of all that is to come_

 _You are warm and safe inside_

 _In mother's womb you now abide_

 _But soon the world your eyes will see_

 _A world of love in mother and me_

 _Stone and grass, trees and sky_

 _Birds and horses your eyes will spy_

 _And in the air you soon shall feel_

 _All warmth, never a winter's chill_

 _The breath of a kiss upon your cheek_

 _The song of a lullaby you shall seek_

 _In mother's womb you gently sleep_

 _In Ilúvatar's arms you safely keep_

 _Soon in ours you will be laid_

 _And live in love, my blessed babe_

He did not know how long she had been awake, but when he lifted his eyes to hers after kissing her womb for the seventh time, he found hers focused on him. She shifted beneath his hands as she reached hers down to rest them on his. He gave her a smile and dragged his hand slowly across her belly again; her eyes closed.

"Good morning, my Prince," she whispered. "That smells so wonderful…"

"How does it feel, my lovely dove?" he asked her, kissing her skin again. Her hands rose from his to touch his face, stroking him from temple to ear to chin on both sides.

"Indescribable…" she murmured. "The baby loves your song." Tears filled her eyes; she had yearned for him to sing to the child for months, especially now that she knew he could hear. "Can you feel him?" Legolas nodded with a smile. "Your voice is so soothing…so wonderful." She ran a hand through his hair. "Come up here so I can kiss you," she continued in that low voice.

He shook his head, his nose brushing her. "Not until I have finished." He lifted his head then, taking it from her hands and sliding down a bit further on the bed. Bending her knee, he rested her foot upon the bed. After rubbing more lotion between his hands, he began slowly caressing her left thigh, making sure his whole hand made contact with her skin.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly as she opened her eyes to meet his.

"Making you feel wanted, loved," he replied, giving her a little smile as he watched her hands cup the place where their child lay. "Is it working?"

"You always make me feel loved," she said. "This is simply…beyond words." He watched tears slip from her eyes. "Beyond words…"

"Are you all right?" he asked, and she could see his concern for her. He went to withdraw his hands and she shook her head.

"Please, do not stop," she said, and he continued to caress her at her word. She lifted a hand to wipe her face. "Each time I think that I have finally understood how much you love me…and then you do something that moves my heart beyond my comprehension. I do not know if there will ever be a moment when I finally get it; I cannot understand it."

He smiled then, massaging the cream into her knee and calf. "I am never going to stop finding ways to show you how much I cherish you," he said, kissing her knee. "Our child is seven months old and can hear us. I want him to know how much I love you; I was only telling him before you woke."

"I do not know if it is possible that he does not already know."

"I want to be sure," he replied, lifting her foot and gently rubbing the lotion into the bottom of it, making her skin silky. He smoothed it gently along her toes, dragging his fingertips in between them. He kissed the top of each one as he worked, and she let her head rest back against the pillow.

 _Legolas…that feels so wonderful. You are so wonderful…I do not deserve you._

"Oh, you do," he told her. "You deserve every moment of this, mother of my child. You deserve to be treasured and loved, and blessed with my love. I pray you never forget it, and I pray that I never forget to remind you, to tell you, to show you."

He settled her foot back down and, after spreading more lotion on his hands, moved on to her right thigh, leaning over one more time to press his lips to her abdomen and bless the One with his thoughts. He loved them so much, and no one was ever going to take them away from him.


	31. Chapter 31

"See my lamb?"

The little stuffed animal was shoved into her face and Arwen laughed as she took it down so she could see it more clearly. It was quite adorable, and she knew immediately it had been homemade for her by her mother. She could not help but smile.

"Oh, he is adorable, Paden," she told the little girl.

" _She_!" the little girl stressed.

"My deepest apologies," Arwen teased, though Paden would not have known it as she hugged the lamb tight to her chest. "How are you getting along with your new brother?"

She crinkled up her face. "He cries a lot."

"He _is_ a baby, sweet one," she replied. "He cannot use words to tell you what he wants."

"Is _that_ why?" she asked. "I thought he was just mad."

"No. You did the same when you were his age." Sera came into the room and smiled at her, their new little boy, Wilym, in her arms. Arwen smiled back as Paden ran across the room to grab another toy. In the kitchen behind them, they could hear Paden's husband fixing dinner.

"He's fed and clean," she laughed softly, and then she looked over at Arwen before she sat down. "Do you want to hold him while he's awake?"

Did she ever. "Please," she said, and as Paden laid him in her arms, she looked down into those little green eyes for the first time. _Oh…stay my heart…are you not the most beautiful creature I have ever seen?_ He blinked a few times and then his eyes settled on hers. "Two and a half weeks old," Arwen said in awe as Sera took a chair near her and Paden climbed immediately into her lap with her lamb. "He already must enchant the hearts of women everywhere. Look at those _eyes_ …"

"Oh, I know," she replied with another laugh. "Paden's eyes were blue when she was born, but his're definitely green. I hope they stay that way. He'll have every girl from here to Rohan falling for him." She watched as Arwen lifted a finger and stroked his tiny little fingers. "I'm so glad you made it today. After the stoning, I wasn't sure you'd leave the Princess's side."

"The Prince is here now," she said, staring transfixed into his face and smiling. "He is taking good care of her. I wanted to come and see you sooner, but I thought I would give you time to recover. How has your family been?"

"We're delightful!" called Gaben from the kitchen and Sera smiled.

"Thanks, Gabe," Sera called back. "Busy. Paden's been a bit jealous with him, but she's accepting him fairly well. I think she'll come to like him. It's hard for her, being the center of attention and then…suddenly not."

Arwen nodded. "I can only imagine." Sera wrapped her arms tightly around her little girl and kissed her on the top of the head. Arwen slipped a finger into Wilym's and just let him wrap his fingers around hers. _You are so precious, little one._ She felt her heart tighten as his fingers tightened on her skin, but she only sighed and continued to stare into his eyes with a smile.

"She's just got to remember that I can love two just as well as I can love one," Sera said, planting kisses all in Paden's hair as she giggled. The little girl leapt from her lap and scooted over to Arwen, distracting her enough to lift her head.

"Can I hold him, Mommy?"

"Not yet, darling. He's still too little."

"Can I pet him?"

Arwen almost laughed as Sera rolled her eyes. "Of course you can touch him, Paden." Paden laid her hand on his face and tickled his cheek with her fingers, then she planted a kiss on his head and danced from the room. Sera laughed and Arwen took her fingers gently along Wilym's blonde eyebrows, his little eyes automatically closing at the touch. Sera was quiet as she watched her, the voices of Paden and Gaben drifting into the room as Paden volunteered to help him make dinner. Arwen, in the meantime, studied the baby's face, remembering the last time she had held an infant, Éowyn's son, Folengel. It was suddenly no easier to hold this little boy, and her aching heart made it difficult to draw breath. She cupped her hand around the back of his head to prevent her fingers from visibly trembling, and continued to draw her thumb along his brow. He was half-asleep in moments.

"You're so good with him," Sera said softly. "I was going to offer to take him, but he might just fall asleep in your arms. Is that all right?" Arwen could only nod as she tried to focus on the newborn in front of her and how beautiful he was, pushing away the past. "So…" Sera asked a bit slyly, "what're you doing to pass the time now that the King's away? Three weeks now, yes?"

Arwen nodded. "Yes. I have been spending a lot of time with Enguina. This last week has been nice; after being with friends for so long, it was difficult to not have them here for the past four years."

"And then to be without your husband," Sera added. "Well, I'm sure you could easily find someone to keep you company while he's away." She laughed and rolled her eyes. "There would probably be plenty of men who would fall at your feet."

Arwen's head lifted, staring at Sera. "What? Why…Sera, why would you say such a thing? You cannot mean that I…that I would…"

"No one would condemn you for it," Sera said soothingly. "That's often been done here; when the King is away, his wife would take a lover. The same would've been true for the King." She shrugged. "It's common knowledge that Ecthelion certainly did when he was Steward and even Denethor when Finduilas passed on, though he never remarried. Ecthelion's wife had a man or two when he was away as well; it's been common practice."

Arwen stared at her, trying to find her voice. "Is there…is there no faithfulness in the world of men? Is there no fidelity in marriage?" She was horrified by her friend's words, astounded that anyone would think she would be less than constant to her husband. "I have pledged to be faithful to one man; am I not supposed to be true to my husband, and he to me?"

"Faithfulness is a virtue, Evenstar, but it is never expected in those of great lineage," Sera said. "No one would condemn you, or your husband, if you did. In fact, they'd probably expect it. Perhaps not so much you, but they certainly would expect it of the King." Gaben appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands; neither of them noticed him.

To have anyone think that Aragorn would be less than faithful to her was appalling. "I…the King and I have a covenant with one another," Arwen said, her hands beginning to tremble again. She held the baby a little more tightly, but he did not notice as he was already asleep. "Our marriage vows…Sera, how could we dare do anything but be true?"

"The King _did_ take the Lady Erumar with him," Sera said softly. "I'm not saying that means anything, but most people would say it does."

Arwen gaped at her. "Erumar is…she is an old friend of both of ours; Aragorn has known her for years, and I…almost my entire life!" She was so distraught by Sera's words that she almost suddenly burst into tears. She waited until she could find her voice, and then she forced out, "She would not even think…and he would _never_ …."

" _Sera_ ," said Gaben firmly from the doorway, and the two of them looked up, "don't fill her head with such nonsense. The King's made no indication to this point he'd want someone on the side. Don't say such things. And dinner's ready."

When he turned, Sera looked down guiltily, and Arwen swallowed hard, looking back down herself into Wilym's face. "Forgive me, Evenstar," she said softly, bowing her head. "I'd only meant to tease you; I never meant to make it out to be something so horrible to you. As I said, it was…it was common practice in the old days. You were fortunate to marry for love and many of them were not. Perhaps that's why many men and their women in the old days also favored someone on the side. I meant no offense, to either you or your husband, or to make light of your commitment to one another." She looked over at Arwen and studied her as she held their baby.

Arwen lifted her head and met her eyes. "That would…that would tear me apart, Sera," she said honestly. "I would never survive such a betrayal, nor could I ever perform one." She thought of her words to Aragorn, that perhaps he _should_ take someone to have an heir, to have a babe like the one lying in her arms…and how it would kill her to give her consent for him to do it.

"Forgive me," she said again. "I forget sometimes that you're an elf, and therefore your ways are very different than the ways of the Kings of old." She sighed. "Gaben's right of course; that was impertinent of me and I should've been more careful and noticed how upset you were by it." She rose and walked over to her, crouching down in front of her and resting her hand on hers. "My Lady, please forgive me."

"Of course," she said immediately. "Of course, I forgive you."

"Here, let me take him and lay him in his crib while we eat. He's long been asleep. You're almost magical with him. It'll be so wonderful when you have your own." She smiled and took Wilym from her. "I'll be back in just one moment."

 _When you have your own_. Arwen wanted to sigh in frustration, but she had known the risk of coming here the entire time she had been planning on it. She cast her eyes to the ceiling and then closed them as she let a breath out. _Ilúvatar, I lay this burden once again at your feet…for the tenth time today, the hundredth time this week. Please…take it from me, or be my strength until I can stand on my own. Be my shield and shelter._

She heard feet, and she tilted her head down just soon enough to catch Paden hurtling into her arms. She caught her and immediately smiled.

"Evenstar," the girl said, "are you and Mommy coming for dinner?"

"Yes, dearest," she replied, and she stood, swinging her up into her arms as Sera came back into the room. They went to eat dinner, but always in the back of Arwen's mind troubling her were Sera's words, and the worry, the fear, the _dread_ that had been gnawing at her for months.

* * *

The September breeze was blowing across the Sea of Rhûn as Erumar stood on its banks, looking out across its water. This was their last night directly on its shore before heading north in the morning. After that, they would be journeying through fairly desolate lands until they reached the River Celduin and followed it to the last sighting of the Easterling encampment. They had been traveling now for thirty days on this road and it was now well-into the second week of September. Fall was coming on fast as they headed further north. She had a feeling it might be a much earlier winter than anyone had expected, and she hoped that Enguina was going to make it safely back to their home in Ithilien because they had left early enough. She knew her only too well, the indecisiveness that would come from being near Arwen. She could only hope that Legolas would arrive and encourage her to leave sooner.

They had made camp a fair distance from the water, and the men had spent the majority of the day bathing and enjoying being near the Sea. It was now her turn, and they had full orders to remain in the camp and leave her be. She was not worried; she knew every one of their number by name now and not one of them would dare to approach her or disobey the express command of their King. She removed her tunic and stepped out into the chilly water, but she ignored that and kept walking until she was deep enough that the water reached her ribs. Her arm was almost as good as new and she studied it, running her hand along the repaired bone. The fracture above her elbow was completely healed, and the break below was nearly there; when she applied too much pressure there it still hurt, so she knew that it was not quite as good as the other. She lathered her hands and began soaping her arms; feeling days of dirt come off was a good feeling, even though she was enjoying this journey immensely. Yes, sometimes it was nice to remember that she was a woman who enjoyed being clean. That thought made her smile. Being on this journey so far had also stopped her long periods of dwelling on Haldir and her loss, the dreams as well; she could only hope beyond hope that they were finished for good. She thanked Ilúvatar for answering her plea for at least a bit of peace in making this decision.

* * *

Back on the shore, Ethring crept into place behind a tall, thick-trunked tree, his eyes fixed on the bathing Erumar as she raised her hands to soap her hair, the moonlight accentuating her nakedness. Ethring swallowed, and _stared_ , unable to take his eyes from her. He had thought her as beautiful as the Queen many times, but this completely proved it—he had seen the Queen unclothed more times than he should ever have; the King would have had him blinded for the number of times he had watched them making-love in the House. He was not sure what had drawn him to the creek; they had been told very clearly that she was to go alone and remain alone. They were not permitted to leave camp. He had sneaked away and gone anyhow, so he stood against the tree, his mouth dry as he watched her in the sea.

Ethring knew very well that what he was doing was not right; he had disobeyed his King and he was watching a woman other than his wife, a very _attractive_ woman other than his wife, bathe—he had not seen his wife in nearly a month, and he had no good excuse this time. Watching the Queen was a duty for Gondor, and this was…much more personal a desire. But there was no way he would have stopped now, watching her hands trace over her neck and draw her hair down over her breasts. Yes, this was inappropriate, but he felt it was almost necessary, this last bit of knowledge about her. He _knew_ her now; Nardur had explained to him once that in order to know someone fully, you had to know them intimately, to know what they did when they were alone. Ethring was confident that he had gotten to know her enough over the past month that she would be unsuspecting and unsuspicious. She was already that, a woman bathing when she thought that no one would come here when over fifty men had not seen a woman other than her in nearly a month. Oh…but she _was_ undeniably beautiful…more so than his wife…and he could not deny himself the pleasure…

"Ethring, what're you doin' down here?" came the whispered voice of one of his fellow guards and it made him spin about. The man's name was Jeret, and he was Ethring's Captain of the small group of twenty that were beneath his command. He knew the man very well and was very close with him. He stared at Ethring's face. Trying to hide the fact that he had been staring at her was difficult when Ethring's face was flushed, but it was at least dark.

"Jeret, I came to be sure the Lady was in good hands," he insisted. "It is unwise to leave one of our number unprotected, do you not agree?"

"Oh, I agree," he said, shaking his head, "but I'm sure you're down here for another reason. The King gave us orders; he'd have your head if he found out." He nodded over Ethring's shoulder. "Though, I'll admit, she sure is one fine-looking woman. Classical beauty, like the Queen, huh?"

"Without a doubt, but I assure you—"

"No need to assure me of anything," Jeret said. "I came down here to get you because I didn't want the King makin' one of my best soldiers a prisoner just for lookin' at a woman while she's bathing. I don't think elves worry about that sort of thing anyway. But we'd better get back before Elessar takes a head count and he's two heads short."

Ethring followed him, staring at his back as he did so; outwardly, he handled the chastisement well, but inwardly, he was full of fury. He imagined himself for a moment as Vändir or Gildion, grabbing a rock from the ground and beating his captain about the head with it until the man was dead—then he could carry on his work. But no, he was not that man and never would be, to kill someone without reason, especially one he knew so well. Passion did strange things to men, and he had to be careful, even with himself.

He thought back to the powder in his bag and the effect that the smallest portion had on his own wife. It was as powerful as Nardur said; he had slipped it into her drink at dinner and she had no idea. When it finally took control, she had been absolutely driven by her need to alleviate her lustfulness. It was at least good that he knew that she went after him as well; that part of Nardur's belief about the drug was incorrect. His wife _had_ been more open to suggestion, but he had already planned ahead for that with Erumar. He needed something _strong_ that was going to make her obey him; he was not about to fool himself for a moment that she would lay herself down with the King simply because he asked. No, he would have to find the perfect moment and make it happen.

The only thing he was still unsure about was how physically strong she was. Yes, within the last week she had recovered enough that Hildanir was teaching her how to defend herself with a sword in the evenings, but that did not tell him everything. When he eventually would have to force her to do what he wanted, he wanted to be prepared for how she was going to react. He was not sure he would be ready for it; he did not know whether she would react out of fear or anger—he remembered very well Felof's wounds from the stoning, and he did not want marks like that on his face.

"We'll circle around and approach the camp from the west," Jeret said from up ahead. "That way no one'll suspect a thing." Continuing to make out his own plots, Ethring simply followed the clever man. It almost made him want to trust him enough to include him but…no, he could not do that. This was between him and Nardur and the King. Best not to include anyone else.

* * *

Erumar walked back into the camp slowly, feeling better physically than she had in days. Most of the men were already asleep, and she walked quietly, nodding to Dinhal, the first guard on the night watch. He smiled at her, but kept to his post as she made her way to her tent of two nights. As she set down her things, her hair was already drying, even in the coolness of the evening. Off to her right she noticed Aragorn standing in the dark. He was standing on the hill, facing back the way they had come, very still. His head was bowed. She had often seen him in the evening standing alone; she assumed he was saying good night to Arwen. Often, she heard him singing, and she knew it was never to himself. Tonight seemed…different. She tied her hair back as she made her way toward him; there was no one else around.

"Aragorn…is everything all right?"

He tilted his head to look back at her, gave her a little smile. "Yes," he said, his voice soft. "Do not worry. How was your bath?"

"Wonderful," she admitted. "I think the water helped my arm as well."

"You are moving it more easily," he agreed. "I was glad to see how well you worked with Hildanir today, and long. You are learning rapidly." He smiled but it did not quite reach his eyes. "I should not be surprised. You are an elf, of course."

She eyed him, looking past his words to see him. "You need not tell me what the matter is if you do not wish. But do not think I am blind."

He sighed. "I forget, sometimes, that you have a gift for seeing right through others, especially me." He looked down at his hands and then back at her. "Arwen is…struggling tonight. It is a great weight upon me, this night more than any others." He shook his head, looking back out towards Minas Tirith. "I touch her mind, and she can feel my heart…but she can take no peace from it."

"I am sorry."

"As am I," he whispered. "I am worried for her, and I must be focused. Two scouts returned while you were bathing; there are at least two groups of orcs not within ten leagues of here. We are bound to engage at least one of them tomorrow, and I cannot be distracted."

"You will be fine," she said. "You must trust Ilúvatar to care for her." She reached up and touched his face. He smiled at her.

"I do; I will. But…it is difficult. Her dream tonight was… _hard_. I am still seeing pieces of it, in my head; she is broken tonight," he whispered, "calling out for the One to rescue her. She did not call me, not even in need."

"She knows you cannot come." She rested her hand on his shoulder.

"I send her what I can; quiet thoughts, peaceful words, this starry night, my unending love. Sometimes it is not enough."

"It is enough," she reminded him. "She has to work her way through the pain first to find you. Loss is…so hard for our people, Aragorn. Give her a chance; keep reaching, and she will find you."

"Ten years…" He was referring to herself, but she applied it to Arwen instead.

"A hundred may pass, and she may still feel it as clear as it was the morning of," she said gently. "You are strong for her, and you have always been strong for her. She will find you."

"Thank you," he said softly. "I am glad you are here, Erumar."

She touched his face again. "I am as well."

"Tomorrow—"

"I will stay safe," she agreed. "I will not look for danger or trouble, and I will stay out of it as much as possible. If there is trouble, I will not lift a sword unless in dire need."

He laughed softly. "I did not require all of those reassurances. The first would have been sufficient."

She blushed. "I am too used to explaining myself to Enguina, I suppose."

"I trust your word."

Behind them, down in the camp, Ethring glanced away, heading quickly back to his tent to avoid being seen. It may not have been obvious to anyone but him, but the King and Erumar made a good match. Anyone who could not see it was definitely blind, or denying themselves the truth. He needed to be ready and wait for the best moment to act. And there would be orcs to worry about tomorrow; he needed to be cautious.

* * *

Enguina shoveled her face down into her pillow and then dragged another over onto her head, in complete denial of the time and the sunshine. She groaned, absolutely not wanting to be awake yet. Last night she had been uncomfortable again, shifting around, the baby wide awake and doing somersaults and all sorts of motions. She would fall asleep in one position, wake up twenty minutes later and need to find a new one. Yesterday, it had been a slight dizziness, this morning it was the movement of the baby all over creation. What would it be tomorrow?

She rubbed her belly; no movements now, of course. "Oh, my child…can you not sleep when _I_ sleep? Do you know how much easier that would make my life? But that is not the point of you, is it? You are here to make life more interesting, more full of love, are you not?" She whispered these things and then rolled carefully over to reach for—

He was not there. She was confused for a moment and then she frowned. Perhaps he had grown tired of her tossing and turning. He had spoken a few words last night when she had been waking constantly, but nothing that she was bothering him or upsetting him. The bed was not even warm; he had been missing for some time.

"Legolas?" she called out softly, rubbing her belly again as she sat up and slipped her feet over the bed to the floor. Perhaps he had gone to the kitchen to make breakfast. He was too early of a riser to still be asleep, and after tying her hair back, she padded barefoot to the kitchen. He was nowhere on her way there, not the bath, not the sitting room, not the kitchen, nor the porch when she looked out the window. Frowning, she looked about for a note of some kind he might have left; she even headed back to the bedroom to look at the dressers there. Not a thing.

Well, she could either wait for him to return or she could go and take her bath alone and head over to the King's House for breakfast. Looking outside, she could see that it was at least half-past nine which was _very_ late for Legolas to have allowed her to sleep. She crossed her arms, completely puzzled; they had agreed that this morning's bath would be one together, though she supposed she could not blame him. If he was up so very early, then perhaps he had not wanted to wait for her. The thought made her so depressed for a moment she thought she might begin crying. What was the matter with her? It had to be the pregnancy. But had he forgotten what they had planned?

Her disappointment was acute, but no matter what, she needed a bath; yesterday and last evening had been extremely humid for September. Sighing, she drew out her clothes and headed into the bath to prepare for the day. Perhaps Legolas was already at the King's House; though this would be far out of the ordinary for him, she was determined to discover where he was…and why he had forgotten such a thing.

* * *

Arwen was setting out plates when Enguina came up the front steps of the King's House and entered. She could see the sausages cooking on the stove, but there was an odd scent in the room, as though something had already been burned. Legolas, here as well as at the guesthouse, was nowhere to be found. It almost made her tear up again, but she shoved it away.

"Good morning, Arwen," she said, attempting cheerful, but simply coming away as though she were sad. Her friend set down the last cup and turned towards her.

"Is something the matter?" she asked. Enguina crossed her arms, not lifting her head, and took a seat at the table, feeling miserable. She could hardly help it.

"Legolas disappeared this morning," she said. "We had plans to…wake early together and he is nowhere to be found. He left no note and...I do not know what to think. He forgot about us and…" She laid her face down on her arms. "I am upset…" she muttered, embarrassed by her feelings.

Arwen stared at the back of her head. Had Legolas really not told her where he needed to be this morning? Had Legolas really not told her what had happened yesterday? She reached over and rubbed Enguina's back gently with a hand as she began to pour water into everyone's cup.

"You honestly do not know where he is?"

"No, should I?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"If…if he did not tell you, I am sure he will," she said softly, thoughtfully. "Legolas does nothing without a reason. I am sure he did not forget about you. Yes, I am sure he did not." Arwen rubbed her face, thinking of what in the world could have gotten into Legolas's head that he thought it was all right to neglect to tell his wife such a thing.

That brought Enguina's head up, and she looked towards Arwen's face. "Do _you_ know where—" Her voice cut off when Arwen's chin tilted and her face was cast in the light. "What has happened?" she asked immediately, terror spiking through her. "What—"

"It was not a good night," she whispered, and as she did she had to set the pitcher down because her hand began shaking so terribly. Enguina reached out for her, but she pulled back, shaking her head. "No, Enguina…" she said, and her voice broke. She tried to clear it before she could move on. "I cannot. This is…this was one of those nights. I cannot speak of it."

"Arwen, _please_ …"

"You _promised_ me," she said, turning away from her, face now in her hands. " _You promised you would try to understand…_ "

For some reason, perhaps it was the miserable mood she had been in this morning and that Legolas had been absent and absent-minded, but whatever it was, she wanted to _explode_ on Arwen. Arwen was so _selfish. She_ had been the one in the bad mood this morning; _she_ had been the one who had barely had any sleep last night with the baby keeping her awake; _she_ had been the one who did not know where her husband was; _she_ was the one who had made time to be with him, had scheduled a time she could spend on a wonderful start to the day and instead had faced disappointment and been near tears. And then, over _all_ of that, she was supposed to be understanding when her best friend would not talk to her!? Her face darkened and she _almost_ spit fire.

And then her hand dropped to her belly and she immediately remembered that words spoken in anger were not allowed, not in front of the baby; _she_ had been the one to ask Legolas to remember it. _Love_ the words had to be, the only ones she wanted him to hear. She took her sudden _fury_ and released it to Ilúvatar. _Oh, help me be understanding when I have no patience for it, Father! Why does she have to be this way? Why, oh why, can I not find some way to reach her?_

" _Arwen_ ," she said finally, and her voice came out much softer than intended, "I want to _understand_. I am so worried about you."

"Let it go," she replied. "Just let me go." Enguina watched her reach up and wipe her eyes. "I do not…I do not want you to…I…just let me go."

"Can I hold you at least?" Enguina asked, and stood, coming around in front of her. "I know I need to be held, even for just a moment. This…was not a good morning."

Arwen nodded, slipping her arms around Enguina as the two of them hugged one another. " _No…no it was not,_ " she whispered, struggling to get the words out. "Forgive me for being so impossible, so stubborn."

"Forgive _me_ for being so moody," Enguina replied, squeezing her tight before leaning back. "Is there anything else I can do?" Arwen shook her head, and Enguina nodded deciding to move on and discuss Legolas. "What can you tell me about Legolas? You _do_ know something, do you not?"

"I…did not see either of you yesterday," she said instead of replying exactly as she could have. 'I thought that what I had been told…well, that Legolas would have told you himself. He will, Enguina; I am sure of it. He—"

"What am I going to do?" Legolas asked as he entered the House and Enguina released her as both of them turned to look at him. He gave them a little smile but Enguina's sadness from this morning came over her and she could not return it. Arwen squeezed her arm gently.

"Telling me where in all heaven you have been," Enguina said, but her voice was not angry. Her arms crossed and Legolas tilted his head at her.

"Do not be cross," he said in her tone. "I just came from the guesthouse looking for you."

Arwen released Enguina's arm and reached over to take the sausages off the heat before turning around. "Good morning, Legolas," she said, and then she slipped back between them, heading for the sitting room. "I am going outside to the porch for a few minutes. Call for me."

It was a credit to Legolas's intelligence that he did not question her even once as to why she was going or for what reason she felt they needed to be alone. He crossed the distance between them before he heard the back door click. He sighed as he touched Enguina's elbows with his hands. She looked into his eyes.

"Why did you forget about us?" she asked, and she was grateful that no tears came to her eyes.

"Darling, I did not forget; I would _never_ forget. My thoughts are consumed by you," he admitted gently. "Things took…longer than I expected them to. I would have been back in time, but I—"

"Things?" she quoted him. "What things? Why did you not tell me where you were going? Why did you not even tell me you were going somewhere?"

"I was going to, last night," he replied. "I was going to tell you, but there was no opportunity to make the conversation. We were speaking of names for the baby and gifts, and then bathing in the morning—"

"You could not have mentioned _then_ that you were going to be missing? I was worried," she stressed. "I thought perhaps you left because you could not sleep for all the tossing and turning I was doing all night. I thought perhaps you were upset with me."

"No, of course not," he told her, running his hands up her arms. "I left because I had something I needed to do. I…did not tell you last night because you were so happy, and I did not want to talk about something that was painful to you. In fact, we have not spoken of it at all; not since that first night."

"Not since…" Enguina began, confused. "Please, Legolas, speak plain. My mind is tired and I—"

"It is nearly three weeks since I arrived," he began, this time much more simply, "three weeks since I learned of the three men attempting to hurt and kill you and our child by stoning, and _Erumar,_ who nearly gave her life for yours."

She swallowed. "I did not want to speak of it," she whispered, her knees growing weak at the imaginary feel of the rocks upon her. "It makes me sick inside to…to even think about it." She glanced towards the sitting room where Arwen waited just outside. "I was so terrified," she continued, her eyes flooding with tears. "I hit the wall and then…and then he _threw that stone…and it broke my ribs…_ " Her breath caught. "And all I could think was that we were going to die." She choked back a sob, glancing once again towards the sitting room. "Then I think of _her…_ and how much _pain_ she is in…and how afraid I was that I almost…that _our baby was almost…_ "

Legolas knelt in front of her and kissed her womb, bringing his hands there to wrap and rub her gently. "We will not be them," he said fervently. " _We will not be them_."

" _Legolas…_ " _We almost were! We could have been!_

"I love them so much, both of them, Aragorn and Arwen," he said, "but I could not bear their pain, not for this…I love him too much already." His voice broke as he pressed his cheek to her womb. "I cannot give you up; I cannot lose either one of you. _I will not_."

She pressed her hands against his head, holding him against her. _Please, Ilúvatar…please never let it be so!_ "Oh, Legolas," she whispered again, stroking his hair. The baby shifted within her beneath his cheek.

"I could not let it stand," he told her gently and she stared down at him. "The Healers told me everything that had happened that they had heard; I forced them and several of the guard to tell me everything they knew. For those men to have done what they did to you, to harm you, to slander you, and then Erumar…Aragorn left the duty in my charge, and I could allow it to wait no longer." His hands were tightening on her, his whispered words so impassioned by the stress he felt.

"Aragorn left…" Her voice held confusion until she suddenly realized what charge he meant. "You went to see _him_?" she asked and loathing came over her face. "Why? Why would you _want_ to?"

"Aragorn gave the duty to me," he said, but he did not lift his head to look into her face. "I am the Prince of the Ithilien Elves, and you, its Princess. It was right for him to do so, and…after speaking with Vändir myself, I believed that Aragorn's punishment was far too lenient."

She was astonished. "Legolas, the man was sentenced to life imprisonment! How could you say that it was too lenient?"

Legolas lifted his head then, staring up at her, his eyes sick with disgust. "How could it _not_ be? Was Calendur not severely punished for abducting you, for threatening the life of the Queen and plotting to kill her and the child? Was Bragolaur—"

"Legolas, _please!_ "

"—not run through for laying a hand on you and taking and torturing me?"

"That was different," she whispered, "we were in mortal danger…"

"It was no different!" he whispered heatedly, remembering his promise about angry words before their baby. "You and Erumar _were_ in mortal danger. Vändir spat in your face, he slandered you, he…he threw _rocks_ at our child! You could have been _killed_ ; you _would_ have been if not for Erumar and then the guard of Gondor."

"I…I know, I…" her lips trembled as she felt the same horror over it when Aragorn had held her and she had cried out for him in the Houses. She had nearly lost their child… _their baby!_

"I confronted him because I wanted him to regret his actions, to apologize for what he had done, to know and understand why he had done it. You cannot imagine the things that he said; you did not _hear_ him." He lowered his head, pressing his brow to her womb. "You did not hear the words he spoke about you, how he threatened you, how he hated you and our child and… _wanted_ your deaths. He even threatened he would kill Arwen as well if he could have so that Aragorn would be forced to wed someone else. I should have known that for someone to have done something so terrible there would have been no remorse…and there could be no forgiveness."

Her hands were stroking his face as he got to his feet. "What…what do you mean?"

"Vändir was hanged in the square this morning," he said, meeting her eyes, his fierce and full of concern for her. "I sentenced him myself yesterday. If he had regretted what he had done, I may have shown him mercy, as he was…he did not deserve it. He will _never_ have the possibility of hurting you, hurting our child, ever, ever again."

"He is…he is dead?" she asked. Now she knew where he had been this morning. "Why…why did you not tell me that you had…been forced to make such a decision? Why did you not tell me, Legolas?"

"I was not forced to make any decision, Guin," he told her. "I could have let Aragorn's sentence stand and then Vändir would still be in prison. As it stands, I am at peace with it."

She stared into his cold eyes. "You are at peace that you…"

"Yes," he replied, firmly. "He did not deserve the privilege it is to be alive or the ability to enjoy all that it means to _be_ alive. Instead, he faced justice. And I did not tell you, Guin, because I knew how upset you were by his actions, and I…know how much you hate when I am angry. Vändir makes me _very_ angry. I did not wish to upset you again over it. Perhaps that was wrong, but…it was a decision I felt led to make." He bowed his head. "You will have to forgive me for making it without you."

"I…forgive you," she whispered, shaking her head. "I only…" She hesitated, unsure she wanted to press him, to question him. But Legolas, as always, cut to the heart of the matter as he met her eyes.

"You cannot understand why I sentenced him to die."

She swallowed, and looked away. "I do not want to question your authority."

"My authority? You are my wife," he replied, lifting his eyebrows. "You have the right to question me on any matter you choose. Who shall keep me honest, if you do not?"

"Who could he have hurt in prison?" she asked, her voice small.

"Probably no one," he answered truthfully. "But did a man so full of hatred towards my family deserve to continue sowing words and deeds of destruction? Who knows what friends Vändir may still have, who could have come to him while in prison? Who knows what they could then do, on his orders? Come after you again? Come after Arwen? No."

"You are _here_ now," she said, touching his face. "You would not let anyone—"

"That is beside the point," he disagreed, but then he sighed. "I do not need you to understand my motives or agree with them. We will not agree on everything in our long, married life; it is all right."

"This…it was a man's life, Legolas," she said softly. "I do not know if I could have done what you did, look him in the eye and convict him…what Aragorn did." She sighed softly, too. "But I do not want you to think that I disagree with you; I… _was_ terrified." Her eyes were honest. She wanted to say the words; she wanted him to know that she was _glad…_

"It is very different thing," he said, "to take a man's life by the sword in the heat of the moment, during war, than to sentence a man to death after the incident has passed."

"Yes," she agreed quickly, looking relieved. " _Yes_ , that is what I mean, what I should have said."

"I understand." He rubbed his hands along her womb again. "Are we all right?"

She nodded, and then drew herself into him to kiss him gently. "What are you going to do to make this up to me?" she murmured and he tilted his head back to look in her eyes.

"Make what up to you?" He had a little twinkle in his eyes. "What did I do again?"

She pressed into him as much as she could, moving her mouth back beside his ear. "You missed our _bath_ , my Prince."

"Oh," he said, stretching the word out. "Yes, that is right. Well, I was thinking that we could go _out_ for dinner tonight, then head home for an early bedtime…" When he said bedtime, she felt him smile. "And then I thought that tomorrow morning we could sleep in and get up when we want…and _then_ bathe together. That would be _so_ nice." He pressed his face into her hair, and she smiled again, closing her eyes.

"This is all providing I _can_ sleep?"

"You will sleep tonight," he promised in her ear. "I can make quite sure of that."

"Mmm." She felt him rub his hand along her belly again, and she was thinking about going back and taking a bath now when she did not need one, and then she sighed softly. "We…need to get Arwen."

 _Thinking of that bath, Princess?_

 _Oh, you have no idea._

"I will go," he replied. "She was kind enough to give us space."

"I think she wanted to be alone anyway," Enguina said softly as he let her go. Legolas paused and looked into her face. "She…must have had a terrible night; she would not speak of it."

"Perhaps I can—"

"I think that would hurt her more, if you were to ask," she answered honestly. "She was firm with me, reminding me that I had promised her that I would respect if she wanted to be left alone. And…I think she may be right," she admitted. Legolas looked at her with surprise. "I mean…perhaps we do not _want_ to know; perhaps it is best if we only comfort, yet do not understand." Enguina said the last in a whisper, as though she had only just come to the conclusion herself.

But Legolas, who was confrontational, could not see why they would not want to help Arwen by understanding themselves.

" _I_ made no such promise to leave her alone."

Enguina grabbed his arm. "Legolas, I am serious," she said. "I do not think I _can_ talk with her about the child…not now, not after…"

"I can," he said firmly. "Has this not gone on long enough?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then I will take care of this as well. I will speak with her." He turned and made his way immediately toward the door.

" _Legolas_ —"

But Enguina's words would not draw him back. He was outside before he heard her finish a sentence. He found Arwen sitting on the loveseat, an arm wrapped around a knee pulled up to her chest. She did not lift her head when Legolas came onto the porch, but she was in the process of wiping away tears, that much he could tell. Her chin was resting on her knee, but she made no acknowledgment of him; he knew that she knew he was there.

"Enguina and I have finished talking; thank you for the moment," he said, studying her.

She nodded. "You are welcome," she said, her voice thick. She made no move to rise.

He had no intention of pretending he did not already know what was happening here. "Were you dreaming last night? Is that why you are so sad this morning?"

Oh…it had been so much more than that. Raising a hand to wipe her face again, she sighed brokenly. "I will make it," she whispered. "I need time to…push it away. Just let me—"

"Why do you not speak to us about it?" he asked, crouching in front of her. "We are both willing to listen, willing to take your burden, willing to help you bear it."

"I could tell you about the dream, but the pain…" She shook her head. "I cannot talk about what I…what I _feel_ , what I have felt. It hurts too much. Let me try to put it aside. Let me—"

"Aragorn is not here," he said.

"Please, I know, just—"

"Aragorn cannot make this any easier when he is gone," he told her gently to attempt to lessen the blow, but he did not feel very kind as he watched her eyes tear up again. "This is going to get worse before—"

"Please, please, please," she begged him softly. "Please let—"

"I do not think we can," he told her honestly. "Look at me, Arwen." She raised her head and wiped her face again. "Aragorn cannot take your pain. Let Enguina and I—"

Her outburst was so sudden it startled him.

"Neither of you can take it!" she cried out. "Neither of you deserve it; I do not _want_ you to feel it! I do not _want_ you to be part of it, to try and help me! You have a child now; I have prayed desperately, as I did when Enguina first told me, that you would never understand this pain, that you cannot, and I will not…I will _not_ help you help me. I will _not,_ Legolas! Do not ask it of me!" She choked on her tears again, wiping fiercely at her face. "You do not _want_ to know; I will not help you understand something that _I_ do not want you to know! I prayed so anxiously when Enguina was lying there on that bed in the Houses, that your baby would be all right, that you would never come to know this terrible grief, and Ilúvatar answered! Aragorn and I prayed for you, and your child is well and safe within his mother and I…I…" She broke down into tears again, dropping her head to her knee.

He finally understood. Perhaps it was not the first reason she did not tell them, back when she had miscarried, but it was a reason now. Staring at her, listening to her words and her grief, just having the conversation with Enguina about never being able to handle the pain of losing either one of them…he finally understood that he _never wanted to know_. _That_ was what Enguina meant when she said that perhaps they should not understand, only comfort. He suddenly did not want to know what the pain of losing a child was like; he did not want Arwen to explain, to confide in him…not at all. And he suddenly felt _incredibly_ selfish for that desire. He felt like the most terrible friend in the world.

For several minutes, all he could do was only stare at the top of her head. Finally, he extended his hands and laid them over hers as they held her leg, her face now pressed to her knee.

"I…I am sorry," he whispered. Just as he finished the words, Enguina crossed behind him and took the seat next to her friend, wrapping her arm around her back and laying her head on her shoulder blade. There was nothing else for them to say, nothing more to try and understand; they just held her.


	32. Chapter 32

Three days and five small orc attacks later, the men were roused and ready for fighting. It was clear that these orcs had been roaming through the Reunited Kingdom, assaulting their borders and killing wherever and whatever they saw fit. Aragorn and Captain Mennev were excellent strategists though, and they were staying one step ahead of them. At the moment Hildanir and his friend Linnat were out scouting ahead for two miles or so as they all took a brief respite from riding. Many of the men were sharpening their swords. Thankfully, they had lost no one and four men only had been injured, and even then only minor wounds. Most had not even seen fighting, as the orc packs were so small, but many were ready for it. At least thirty of the men were not seasoned soldiers; they were young and very eager for a fight.

Erumar stood in the dark, gloomy weather, watching the woods on the northern side of their small group in the hollow where they rested. They were still nearly fifty leagues from the place where their scouts had originally reported sightings of the Easterlings. They could be there in another day or so if they encountered no more orcs, but their objective was not only to find the Easterlings, but to eradicate the orcs from their lands as well. She had been able to stay out of the battle so far, but after nearly two weeks of training with Hildanir and several of the other men, she could have held her own. At the moment, she held a bow, and a quiver of arrows was over her shoulder. She was ready too. For the first time in her life, she did not feel as though she needed to be protected, that she needed to hide. It was…liberating.

She turned her head suddenly, listening closely.

"What is it, my Lady?" asked Jeret, noticing immediately that she was attentive.

"Someone is coming from over the ridge." Her sharp ears were picking up the sound of horses nearby—on their way—and there were more than two of them. "Several horses," she added, "from the Southeast. Ten at best…"

"Weapons up!" Mennev shouted, getting to his feet at once. Men behind her prepared for battle, bows and spears. Aragorn was at her side in a moment.

"Friendly or foe, do you think? Orcs are no riders."

"They would never carry them," she agreed. "Friendly then? I cannot tell, but it is not Hildanir and Linnat…unless they are being pursued."

He shook his head. "Wrong direction and too many." He appeared confused as well. "I…have a feeling, and I normally trust them, but…I want you safe. Get your bow to the middle of camp and take Rûnving with you; you will shoot better from there."

It would never have occurred to her to disobey him. She took the mare's reins and moved down the hill behind the other bowmen as they readied themselves and took aim, preparing for a fight. Aragorn held up his hand, his signal to hold, not two seconds before the riders burst from the woods before them. Five blonde elves in light brown and green tunics with no armor to be seen rode into the clearing on tall, white stallions. The first rider, clearly a lieutenant, dismounted immediately as the others looked intently over the group of Gondorians. As Aragorn stepped forward to meet the elf, his men lowered their weapons.

"Mae govannen, Fânrim!" Aragorn called, this time a grin upon his face. The elf smiled in sudden recognition of the man he had not seen in nearly thirty years, his serious face now one of delight.

"Suilaid, Elessar!" he replied, and reaching for him the two clasped arms. "The time has changed you, my friend; the years of care you bore when last we met have passed away. Is it possible to grow younger?"

Aragorn laughed. "You are far too kind!"

"Perhaps it is because you have everything you need in your greatest treasure. How is the Evenstar of our people?"

"Well, quite well," he replied, nodding easily in agreement with the elf's assessment.

"It is with great pleasure my kin and I find you here not far from the Sea. We had heard of your coming, of course, from the two Rangers that have been riding north; are you seeking the orcs or the Easterlings?"

"Both, wherever we may find them," he said. "We have encountered five small packs so far, few in number among them. We wiped them out, of course."

"That is well. There are a great number of them north of the Celduin, coming down from the Lonely Mountain and the surround. One of our riders returned days ago with the news. My kin and I have been out on the eastern side of the Sea, tracking a party of orcs headed east; we did not know their intent. The Easterlings are north of here; our Captain and a small band of troops journeyed there to spy on them not a day or so ago. We were together, then we broke paths. We were on our way to join them, as I do not like to be so small a band in so wide an untamed world."

Aragorn looked at him, surprised. "You are far from Lasgalen, Fânrim. You were unlooked for, though most welcome." Mennev stepped closer to his side and bowed his head to the elf, only to be near if needed. "What took you east? Did you find who you were hunting?"

"We had heard the Easterlings were trespassing into the Reunited Kingdom out of fear; King Thranduil wanted to find the truth in that rumor. Orcs that sought refuge in the East after the fall of Barad-dur were supposedly preying upon their numbers, chasing the defenseless and dishonored into your land. We had heard of your peace with Harad; we hoped that you might also bring peace to the lands in the North as well."

"That was my intent," Aragorn answered. "It is the primary reason I am here."

"The King with be glad to hear it," Fânrim admitted. "We did find the orcs we sought, and we killed them during the last evening. Our quick eyes caught a party of nigh six hundred a few days' march away, still in the East, but marching ever closer."

"Six _hundred_?" questioned Mennev with surprise, and when he repeated the number, several of the men began muttering at it.

"This group could not be fought by five, nor even by elves with bowmen such as ours," Fânrim continued. "We need a larger force, and we must find our Captain and regroup as we are under her orders and she knows nothing of this force coming from the East. There has been no parlay with the Easterlings that we know of to see if these orcs have been hunting them. We do know that they are mostly women and children; very few of their warriors are left."

"That is what I had feared," Aragorn said, "that they were being hunted. Wounded among them as well, I am sure. We are waiting on two scouts to return. Once they do, we will be traveling north along the Celduin. Will you lead us to your men and we will take counsel there? Perhaps we should send messengers to Thranduil, though I doubt there will be time before the orcs are upon us."

Fânrim glanced over his shoulder. "How many are you?"

"Twenty bowmen, thirty spears," he replied, and the elf nodded.

"With Tauriel, there are nine more."

"Not good odds," grumbled Mennev from behind him.

"I have seen worse and with much less skill," Aragorn stated grimly, and Fânrim nodded. "We must, however, find these Easterlings and see what can be done."

"About them?"

" _For_ them. If they are so few in number, than we must protect them. We cannot have their race extinguished by a horde of orcs. They must rebuild, and in order to do that, we must help them."

"I agree, Elessar," Fânrim said and turned to his men. "Gethrom." One of the elves' hands went to his chest. "You must ride with all speed to the Forest Road and get word to the King. We are in need of aid, as soon as he may send it. And King Elessar has arrived."

"Yes, Fânrim," Gethrom replied immediately, and he wheeled his horse and took off through the woods at top speed. The other horses whinnied and shied at the suddenness of the move, but the elves did not even shift in their saddles.

"What is your plan, Elessar?" the elf asked as his other men began to dismount.

"Can seventy men stand against six hundred?" questioned Mennev.

"There will be more before we arrive," Fânrim added. "Let us assume eight."

"Not if we are able to pick them off as they come," Aragorn said with confidence. "We need to see how far we can remove the Easterlings from harm's way; then we will more than likely have to stand and fight."

"The orcs'll be upon us before we even have a joined conversation with 'em," Mennev said, and the troops were clearly looking to Aragorn for guidance, for peace. He seemed very calm and Erumar admired that about him; in the face of chaos, at least of this sort, he was ready to lead.

"Perhaps, but I do not think so," he said. "Either way, we must do what we can to warn them. We can make strategy as we travel; as long as we take care of their spies, they will not even know our numbers."

"Hildanir is coming," Erumar called to him.

Fânrim looked directly at her, surprised, as did his men. "You have one of our elf-kindred in your midst?"

Aragorn nodded. "Erumar, wife of Haldir of Lothlórien." He turned to the rise where Hildanir and Linnat came riding down into the midst of soldiers, their horses sweaty. Linnat was pierced with an arrow in his back, but he was still upright. As soon as they came to a halt, several men moved forward to help him down from the horse.

"Haldir?" Fânrim questioned, looking back over toward Erumar. "We knew him quite well."

Aragorn let his men take care of the wounded as Hildanir made his way to the hill, speaking to no one else. "Hildanir, what happened?"

"We engaged a scouting party and killed them," he said, wiping sweat from his face as he spoke. "Then a war party came up out of the trees that we had not seen; one of their arrows hit Linnat, but there were too many of them for us to fight them. We were caught unprepared; we were supposed to be scouting from a distance…not attacking a large group." He pointed back in the direction they had come. "We tried to mislead them as well as we could—"

"Hildanir, you are wounded as well," Aragorn said, his eyes catching on the man's leg.

"Just a scratch, Elessar," he said. "Our horses are obviously faster than them, but they are only about a mile behind us." He cringed. "There were not many places to conceal ourselves on this plain."

"We will take the fight to them as soon as you and Linnat are bandaged."

"Soldiers of Gondor!" called Mennev loudly. "Prepare for battle! Form up; we're moving out in ten minutes!" Some of the men, who had not yet been quite ready immediately began putting their items away and packing up quickly.

"Hildanir," Aragorn stated, "get down to Jeret so he can bandage that wound." The man bowed his head and turned back quickly, making his way to where the men had Linnat's shirt off and were rinsing his wound. He turned back to Fânrim. "These orcs are pursuing them in daylight?"

"They are a strange breed," he replied. "If they are indeed of Mordor, perhaps that is why. I will be honest: I thought between Gondor and Lasgalen, we had murdered every orc of Mordor."

Aragorn nodded. "I thought so as well." He glanced over at him. "We will finish the job, though. Will you and your men ride with us?"

"Of course we will. Shall they take up positions with your bowmen?"

"If you do not seek to command them yourself."

"We are five. We would better serve under your command. I will stay with you, and my men to…?"

"Jenet, he is the Captain of the bowmen. For now, they may ride with the rest of the bowmen."

"This was a fine chance meeting, Elessar," he said, signaling to his men. "I will be glad to fight alongside you once more."

Aragorn nodded. "And I, with you, my friend. Come, I need to prepare my horse."

* * *

" _Aragorn!_ "

Arwen woke suddenly, his name on her lips and she screamed it aloud into the darkness, trying to sit up and only entangling herself in the sheet more as she slipped from the divan onto the floor. _THUMP!_

She was gasping, sweat pouring over her as she tried to pull the sheet off and sat upright, leaning her back against the divan and pulling her knees to her chest. Resting her head on them, trying to slow her breathing and calm herself. She felt sick to her stomach; this dream had been nothing like anything else she had been dreaming about. She wrapped her arms tight around herself and pressed her forehead against her knees.

The front door banged open, scaring the daylights out of her and causing her head to snap up so quickly she whacked it off the seat of the divan. Immediately into her line of sight came Liakas, the guard stationed at her door in the evenings, and though she was embarrassed and her hands were trembling, she did not look away from his steady, worried gaze.

"My Lady," he began, "I heard you cry out for my Lord. Were you—"

"It was just a dream," she murmured, but even to her own ears, it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. "I…I am all right."

"You are pale…sweating," he added, his eyes still fixed on her. "Are you certain that you are well?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding slowly, though she had to swallow the sickness in her belly. "The dream was…it was not good. But it was only a dream, the fears I had been thinking of."

He frowned, though he seemed to relax just a little. "And it was…it was about the King, Lady Evenstar? Forgive me, you are an elf and I…I had heard that sometimes dreams are not simply dreams…"

Her fear brought to light. It was a weight upon her shoulders, and in her chest.

She reached up and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "No, Liakas, this was just a dream. It…it was about him, but…it just frightened me. Do not worry; please, return to your post."

He studied her a moment. "Were you…" he hesitated, then shook his head. "Forgive me, my Lady. I should return to my post."

"Liakas," she said softly as he turned away, "what is it?"

He shook his head again, his hand on the doorframe. "It is none of my business, my Lady. I beg your pardon."

She was, once again, embarrassed, but she answered his unspoken question. "I have been unable to find rest since the King has been away."

He hesitated again, but then he turned his head back to look at her. "Perhaps it would ease my Lady to sleep elsewhere? Perhaps Lady Enguina would—"

"No," she replied, wiping her sweaty palms on her nightdress and then rewrapping them around her knees. "No, I do not think so. But thank you, Liakas, for your prompt response." She gave him a small smile. "If I was in any danger, I would know that I was well-protected. Thank you."

He bowed his head to her. "Sleep well, Lady Evenstar." Then he was gone.

Arwen lowered her forehead to her knees, suddenly overcome by the memory of the dream.

" _Ilúvatar…Ilúvatar, please…let what I saw not be real! Let this not be a vision! Please…please, let him be safe_ ," she pleaded with the one who controlled the universe. " _You are sovereign of everything, you are the strong tower, his sword for the fight…please…protect my husband. Do not let this vision be real!_ "

She _was_ afraid. The dream had centered on Aragorn, surrounded by orcs, arrows and shouts flying in the background. Hildanir was there, and Fânrim, whom she had not seen in years, both fighting with orcs themselves, the elf wounded by an orc blade. Hildanir leapt to protect him and the orcs converged on Aragorn, who could not defend himself on all sides. He was sliced across the back, from shoulder to hip, blood spurting from the wound, and as he stumbled forward, he had been pierced by a sword through the left hip. Another orc blade had caught him across the ribcage, slicing in deep before Hildanir had turned to protect him and twin daggers slashed through three of the orcs surrounding him. Then, she had woken, screaming his name.

 _It was only a dream…everything is all right. Aragorn is fine, protected by fifty soldiers. So is Erumar. Everyone you love is safe and well._ She told herself that, but the weight of what she had seen frightened her. _Please, Father…let it be a dream and that is all. Please, do not let this be a vision, something to come. I am frightened, and there is nothing I can do to help him, no way._

She _reached_ to him and touched his mind—at peace, at rest, sleeping. She felt no pain or fear, and she sighed; knowing that he was safe was most of her battle. She caressed his mind, not enough to wake him, but enough to encourage him to sleep peacefully, but she felt dizzy and sick to her stomach as she released him. She _was_ terrified that this 'dream' she had was really a vision. This one and the other—of the dark-haired woman.

"Please, Father," she whispered, "I bring my beloved before you. Please care for him, care for every one of them and help them to be strong and courageous. I…I do not know what these dreams mean. Are they from you? If there is something you want me to see, please, show me in another way. I am afraid of these dreams that keep coming to me; I do not want them to be real. Father, protect my beloved; remind him that you are with him always. I must trust you with his heart. Take my worry for him from me… _keep him safe, please…I am desperate to see your hand at work, Father. Desperate._ "

She rubbed her face against her knees and then slipped back up to the divan, gathering the pillows as she did so. The strongest desire of her heart was to hear Aragorn's voice saying to her that everything was going to be all right, and she was even denied that at the moment. She took Aragorn's pillow between her hands and pressed it against her face, lying back down on her side. The _pillow_ was probably the reason that she had been dreaming about him…getting his scent away from her might be a _good_ idea, but she could not bring herself to do it.

She forced herself to settle her heart; she _refused_ to cry. She had been doing enough of that. But she had to admit to herself that after the dream, it took her a _very_ long while to fall asleep.

* * *

The Gondorians settled down for the night behind a hill that was no more than ten miles from the Easterling camp above the joining of the rivers. With ten wounded, though not badly, they needed the rest. There was a watch on the surround; men were taking shifts of an hour so they could get some serious rest. They expected to be in heavy battle in just a few days, so this was the perfect opportunity. Erumar was dishing out cold stew they had made yesterday for the hungry soldiers as being so close to the Easterling camp they did not want to get a fire going, but they were grateful and thrilled. From where she stood, she could see Aragorn and his Captains sitting close to one another in the moonlight, looking over several maps with two of the elves. Erumar found herself studying them; they were quite different from Lórien elves, even in their mannerisms and dress, which she found quite interesting.

"Lady Erumar?"

She turned and saw Lieutenant Fânrim standing close to her, studying her just as she had been studying his men. She gave him a smile. "My Lord, would you care for stew as well? You are more than welcome to—"

"No, I came over to meet you," he said, bowing low to her. "I am Fânrim. When Elessar said that you were Haldir's wife, I needed to greet you." He smiled. "I knew your husband very well. We spoke many times when he was the messenger between our two nations. Lord Celeborn and the King communicated often."

She did not allow her stomach to fall at the mention of Haldir. She genuinely smiled; she knew that people of Lasgalen knew him and knew of him, and in a way was glad that Aragorn had introduced her that way—as the wife of Haldir. It made her proud to have been his wife, and she had always felt that way.

"Fânrim, it is my pleasure to meet you. I am glad that Haldir traveled so frequently between our nations. He often spoke of the beauty of your woods and your people, though I have never seen it. I am a friend to the son of the King as well, and met the King when he was in Minas Tirith for the wedding nearly three years past. I had the privilege of spending time with them both in Ithilien as we built and prepared a home for the newlyweds to live in."

He was delighted by her words. "So you have met the King _and_ the Prince and know them well! I am very glad to hear it!"

"I was…" she hesitated, blushing, "I am not traveling with this party as a warrior. I was invited by the King to come to Eryn Lasgalen and see it for myself. Aragorn was kind enough to allow me to travel with them."

Fânrim stared at her, and beneath his intense gaze she looked away, embarrassed. "By all the trees of the Greenwood," he murmured, "the King has never given an invitation for a Lady alone to come to our woods. You must have turned his head." The words brought a smile with them. "It will be good for him to have company. Often, he is alone, especially after his son went on journeys with the Dúnedain. The past has been very hard on him all these long years."

"The past is difficult for us all," she said softly, unsure how to respond. _You must have turned his head._ Those words both frightened and sent a thrill through her at the same time.

"Yes," he agreed. "I am—"

Both of their heads shot up at once. They had not even time to raise an alarm as suddenly an orc-arrow plunged into one of the Gondorian watchers on the hill and he fell down. Men who were yet awake around the camp began grabbing their swords and Erumar readied her bow, firing into the darkness where the arrow had been loosed. They heard a gurgle, but several more arrows thudded into the ground within the camp among the sleeping men. Aragorn, Mennev, and Jeret shot to their feet and ran through the camp, drawing swords and yelling. By that time other bowmen were on their feet and several brave men led by Hildanir bolted into the darkness to find the orcs.

They did not need to. There was a growl and the metallic song of knife-slashing, several thudding arrows, and orc cries. A warg bolted from the darkness towards Hildanir and he yelled in surprise as the bowmen behind him quickly took aim. Suddenly, a figure leapt onto its back, stabbing straight down into its head. In the dark, they could not tell what was happening, but the beast dropped and slid, the elf rolling from it to her feet as it came to a halt directly in front of Hildanir.

"Captain!" called Fânrim in surprise. Behind her, there were no more sounds of orcs, only hoof beats as the rest of the elves drew near. Her horse came with the rest.

Hildanir took a knee, looking up at the long-haired Elven woman. "My Lady, thank you for saving my life!"

"You are welcome. Stand, guardsman," she said. As he rose, he studied her; he had never seen another she-elf like her. Her bearing was that of a warrior, but with the finesse and grace that elves naturally bore. He had never seen an elf with red hair either. He could hardly take his eyes off her.

"Captain, we were searching for you today," Fânrim said to her as he drew near, "but we saw no sign of you."

"We were tracking this last pack of orcs," she replied. "Clearly, they knew _you_ were here. I am glad that we found you." She lifted her head and had to smile as soon as she saw Aragorn draw near behind his men. He, too, had a grin upon his face.

"Mae govannen, Tauriel!" he called to her, and he scaled the hill quickly. "I had not thought to hope to see you on this journey until Fânrim arrived!"

She touched a closed fist to her chest. "Mae govannen, Hîr nîn."

"Aragorn," he reminded her as he reached her side.

She stared at him, shaking her head in awe. "It is Elessar now. How you have _changed_ , mellon. You bear the title of King quite well." He reached over and tugged her close for a hug before releasing her; she let him, which made him glad.

"Yet you are still making quite an entrance," he said with a little smile. "As Fânrim said, we were hoping to meet up with you before heading to the Easterling camp in the morning. I am relieved that you found us."

"You were not exactly hiding, Aragorn; the filth was headed right for you." She scowled back at the orcs that lay dead behind her. "We are roaming across your lands a bit unchecked."

"You and your people are welcome among us," he said. "We are still caring for several wounded from the last skirmish, and now Garm as well. Come; Fânrim has enough to report to you, I am sure, and I would like to hear anything you can tell us about the Easterlings. Fânrim, will you—"

"Captain, come; I will show you where you can picket the horses and settle in for the night."

* * *

"An army of six hundred orcs, you say Fânrim?"

"Yes, Tauriel," the elf replied. "There were six hundred at least. I am betting, as they were marching in that direction, that it was not blind luck; they were aware the Easterlings were gathered north of the river joining. I am certain that they knew from previous scouts. That is my opinion."

"A wise one," she stated. She looked to Aragorn. "You intend to fight them?"

"I intend, with intelligence from you and your scouts, to protect the innocent as best as Gondor can," he answered firmly. "I will not allow what is left of a people be slaughtered."

She nodded. "We have been watching them for several days. They are scattered, nearly leaderless. There are almost three hundred of them, but they are refugees. Most are not warriors, but women and children, and _many_ wounded." She shook her head. "They have few warriors left. They would never challenge you."

"Did you approach them at all?" asked Fânrim, and she shook her head.

"No, not after we heard you were coming. They are in your land; they are your intruders now."

"As I said to Fânrim, I say to you," Aragorn said softly. "You are awfully far from your borders in Lasgalen, to come so far east past Dale and the Lonely Mountain. I was surprised to meet so many of you out here; was it Thranduil's plan to send you so far?"

"There had been rumors of orcs multiplying," Fânrim replied a bit sheepishly, "though we are overstretching a bit to be here. Our mandate was to investigate to Dale—"

"But the trail led out here," Tauriel stated firmly. "Our first command is to protect the Wood, our second is the innocent. We are doing both by ridding the plain of all this filth."

"I could not agree more," Aragorn said with a nod. "I am very glad you are here. My thoughts for tomorrow on the Easterling camp were to approach with only a small party. Perhaps you and Fânrim, myself, Mennev and a standard-bearer. That is a small-enough contingent to demonstrate that we mean no harm. After a parlay, I thought we could give them whatever aid we can, get them to travel further northwards, and then set a trap for as many of the orcs as possible as that is where they expect them to be."

"I cannot imagine the Easterlings would refuse any sort of hospitality," Tauriel replied. "They have clearly been without aid for far too long."

"Most of the day tomorrow will be aiding them," he said, "and then planning. I am hoping, if they are willing, that some of their warriors will be willing to pitch in, so to speak. Once peace is made with them, we will send two scouts to find how far the orcs are from us; that will give us an estimate on the amount of time we have to prepare."

Tauriel looked at him seriously. "Aragorn, I agree with you completely that we must aid the Easterlings in any way we can, but I do not know if we have enough men to defeat seven hundred orcs, if that is what we must face. There will be no reinforcements from Eryn Lasgalen, not all the way out here, not in time."

"I understand," he stated, "but I do not think we have a choice. If we were to turn our backs on them now, they would be slaughtered. We are their best and only hope."

"It is my thought," said Fânrim, "that they will stand and fight with us. If they wish to protect their people, whoever can, must fight with us."

Aragorn nodded. "We will see what tomorrow holds. Why do you both not get some rest? I think the watchers can scout for the rest of the evening. At first light, we away to the camp."

Fânrim nodded, and stood. "Are you coming, Tauriel?"

"In one moment," she replied, and he understood the underlying tone of that statement: she wanted to speak with Aragorn alone.

"Elessar," he said suddenly, "would you terribly mind if I asked the Lady of Lórien to take a place with us? She is a good bowman, and she is to be our guest, she says."

Aragorn smiled at him. "I would welcome it," he replied. "She is not a warrior, but she is far more skilled with a bow than a sword. I would prefer her as far from danger as possible."

"Of course, though whenever the battle reaches us—"

"Yes, she will be part of it if that is her will. If not, then she will remain with the Easterlings if all goes well. But thank you, Fânrim, for taking her beneath your wings."

"It is my pleasure," he said with a bow. "The wife of Haldir is welcome among our people at any time. Good evening, Tauriel."

"Take some rest, Fânrim," she replied, and he moved away. She looked back to Aragorn. "I am sure you wish to take rest yourself, Aragorn. I do not desire to keep you long, but—"

"Please," he said, shaking his head, "I am eager for news as well. Ask whatever you wish of me."

She studied him and then said softly, "The King returned pensive and quiet, though in much better spirits than when he left. He is…changed, somehow. There is hope in him that there never was before." She shook her head. "I cannot imagine the cause of it."

"There may be several reasons for that change," Aragorn admitted. "I know very little of the nearly two years he spent in Ithilien, but I can tell you that he did meet someone who has been able to help share the weight of his loss. Erumar of Lórien, as Fânrim said, traveled with us; I am sure you will meet her soon, though she will be spending some time among you. Thranduil invited her to come and see Lasgalen."

Her eyebrows rose. " _Invited_ her? That does not sound like the King at all."

"The other reason for the change in his spirits is that he spent some time with his son."

He could almost see a physical response to the mention of Legolas. "Thranduil had not really spoken of him," she said, "only that he had begun living in Ithilien, and then some of our people made the journey to join him. More intend to follow in the spring next year." He could see the yearning in her eyes as she looked at him. "Will you…what can you tell me of him?"

"I wish more, Tauriel," he said honestly. "He looked for you at the wedding; he had hoped that you would come, but he also understood."

"How I wanted to go," she whispered, looking up into the starlight. "For so long he was my dearest friend; I feel that we are not as close as we once were. Eryn Lasgalen could not go unprotected."

"The King is like your father," he said. "Of course you had to stay. Legolas had only wished that you could have been there; he wanted to see you, for you to share in his joy."

"For so long he has been alone," she murmured. "I wish him every happiness." She lowered her chin to look into Aragorn's face. "Do you know the woman he wed?"

"Yes," he replied, "quite well, in fact. Her name is Enguina, and she is an elf of Lórien, fair-haired, sister of Haldir, who I do not know if _you_ have ever had the privilege of meeting. He became a Lieutenant in the Wood before you were born; you may be too young to know him."

She laughed. "Too young, Elessar?"

"You are the youngest of the Eldar in Middle-Earth, Tauriel," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "Though you will only bear that claim for another few months."

She stared at him, understanding his words almost immediately. "They are to have a child?" She said the words with awe; there had been no elvish children since she had been born some five hundred years before. He nodded, and she closed her eyes and raised her hands to the Heavens. "[A blessing on thee, Legolas! May Ilúvatar help you care for this child as you have cared for the Wood of your homeland all the days of your life. May the stars shine upon you!]" She was silent for a moment after that, and Aragorn let her sit, her face lifted up as well. Then she looked at him once again.

"Tell me about him, about _them_ ," she asked eagerly. "Has he changed? Are they happy? Is she wonderful? Does she treat him well, love him well?" She asked the last question, even though it was clear on her face that she embarrassed herself by asking it; she clearly did not care enough to take it back.

"I have not seen their home in Ithilien, but I am certain it is beautiful," Aragorn said with a smile. "Enguina speaks of it with much love. Legolas is still the same Legolas, as kind and fiercely protective as he ever was; he adores her, and she him. I wish you could meet her, and then you would know and understand why he loves her as he does. She does love him well; they complement each other perfectly. He treats her like a Princess, as the Lover of his Heart."

"I am so grateful he is no longer alone," she said softly. "I am so thankful that he has found someone to share his life with, someone he desires, someone he deserves that deserves him. I hope one day that I can meet her, as you say."

"They will come to Eryn Lasgalen one day," he assured her. "They must bring a grandchild for Thranduil."

She shook her head. "I am still in _awe_ of it. So many _years_ …what a blessing. _Legolas_ …my dearest friend, Legolas…to have a child!"

"It does seem…hard to imagine," he admitted, laughing softly.

"He will be an excellent father," she said immediately. "Of that there was never any doubt."

"Oh no," he agreed, "he certainly will."

"I wish I could meet her," she said again, this time even more wistfully, "this Enguina."

"You will one day."

"What of you, Elessar? Though I have never met, nor seen the Evenstar, I know of her. I know what she means to our people, and that you have loved her since you were grown," she added. "How is she? Have you no children to speak of?"

"Not yet," he said softly. "She is quite well, and ruling Minas Tirith in my stead as I vie for peace." He smiled. "It suits her, and the people love her."

"Just as they do you, I am sure." She looked at him. "Yes, being a King does suit you. These men do not obey out of fear; they obey out of love for you."

He bowed his head, and did not contradict her. "I am glad that you will be beside us in the fight ahead with the orcs. You have no equal, Tauriel."

"Oh, you are quite mistaken there, Elessar," she refuted him, "but I will allow your words. You may praise me matchless if you must, the King and his son are not here to contest you."

"No indeed. Let me praise where I will."

"I should let you rest," she finally said. "I could stay here with you speaking of what you know all night. I hope you will indulge me again sometime," she added longingly. "There are times when the King is too quiet and I yearn for him to say more."

Aragorn smiled. "When the next few days, possibly weeks, are over, you and I will have more time to talk. We will _make_ time to talk; I promise."

"You always keep your word," she said softly. "I will look forward to it."

* * *

That following morning, the Gondorians and Elves rode out; Aragorn did not want his men ten miles off in case something were to happen, even though there was no protection out on the plain. There were sparse trees, though even they became thicker near the rivers. What Aragorn also did not want was for the Easterlings to see an army headed towards them, but there was nothing to help that now; again, there was no protection on the plain. So instead, they rode within three miles and then their small group broke off from the major one, leaving Jeret in charge. With Aragorn rode Mennev, Hildanir, Tauriel, Fânrim, and Garm, who swore he was in perfect condition to bear the King's banner. Aragorn let him ride; the man could make his own decision. None of the men were pleased by his declaration of intent to have such a small number with him, but he was determined that he would need only a few.

It was quite a clear day today, so they could assume there would be no orc attacks, for they did not fare well in the sunlight. The Elves could see them much sooner, but even Mennev could see the camp from a league or so off. As they drew near, Aragorn led the way only slightly; the Gondorians, especially Aragorn, were dressed impressively, though it was mostly for show, it would give an obvious display of strength and it would protect them.

Aragorn studied them as they drew near, taking in as much about the camp as he could. Whatever people he could see near the tents were dressed in garb typical of the Easterling people, and it was clear nearly all of those he could see were women and children. There were shouts of alarm, cries of the wounded, and the chatter and surprise of children as they began to see a party approaching. From within the camp and behind the tents came many armed soldiers, dressed in the signature gold-plated, edgy armor that was native to their country. Aragorn knew as they slowed to a jog from less than half a league away, that there were more warriors hiding within the camp; of that much he was certain. They came from behind tents, moving forward to where they could not be misunderstood: their spears were forward, aiming directly for them. They did not appear to have bowmen, but Aragorn was not about to assume anything.

They slowed to a walk, and Aragorn asked Brego forward until they were about twenty yards away. Just as he reined Brego in, one of the men standing out front snarled at him, accentuating the words with a spear jab to the air between them.

" _Rushk, Gondorian!_ "

"Peace," Aragorn said, holding his hand out palm up in greeting. "I am afraid we do not understand your language. Do you know the common tongue?"

Every last one of their spears came up, and Garm's horse danced sideways, the sight of them making him nervous. He brought the animal back under control and into their line of six. To the Easterlings, Aragorn looked every bit the part of a King: the White Tree of Gondor spread across his breast, a circlet of winged silver on his brow, his horse dressed in the splendor of Kings, the sword of legend still in its sheath; his men and the two elves armed to the teeth and regaled in armor and splendor as well. To the Gondorians, the Easterlings were a bit frightful, their dark faces half-hidden by lines of black on their eyes, their faces half-hidden by dark wraps and winged half-helms. Their faces were angry; they were ready for a fight. Mennev's hand drifted towards his sword.

"Do not," murmured Tauriel. "You need only give them a reason, Captain." Aragorn's eyes did not waver from the man who spoke.

"Speak, Gondorian," the harsh, snarling voice sounded again. "What business have you here, so far from your crowns and castles? We care not for crooked deeds and ill-fated words! Best get you gone!" Several spears were jabbing the air; these men were used to a good brawl, and had clearly been through many.

"I speak on behalf of the Reunited Kingdom and the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen," Aragorn replied calmly, as was his way. "You are far from your homeland with a large number of soldiers, invading one land and heading toward others under the protection of Gondor and Arnor. This cannot go unnoticed. I would speak with your Captain—"

"The Captain is dead!" declared harsh voice. "You cannot speak with one in the ground!"

"Silence about the Captain," stated a flat voice and Brego's head came up at the snap. The other horses were restless as well.

"Which of you speaks for this company you lead? To where are you heading?"

"What business is it of _yours_?" another voice spat. "Be on your way!"

"We go where we wish, _raeadan_ ," interjected flat voice. "You have no right to question us."

"I am no stranger to these lands," Aragorn replied, his voice firm. "There is no need for name-calling."

"We see you and your army that comes! We see that you seek to attack us!" snapped harsh voice.

"We come to you in peace; were not my first words of friendship? You have been wandering for many days with many wounded. Who has attacked you along our borders? Tell us your tale; treat with us, and we will be able to help you. Again, I ask you, who may we treat with?"

"Who are _you_ , Gondorian, to lend us your aid and offer us peace? Are you the King, that you can help us so readily? You and all your wealth can _hang_ itself!"

"He is Elessar Telcontar, the Elfstone," Garm announced loudly. "He is the King of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, in which you are now trespassing. It is only by leave of the King that you still remain in his lands."

The Easterlings stared at him, and it was revealed to them that this _was_ Elessar, and they heard the truth in Garm's words and it seemed to them a great light had appeared in their darkness. Several of their spears wavered, but they were cautious. They knew at once, when Garm spoke his name, that within the sheath at his side was the rumored, blade re-forged, Andúril, Flame of the West. They continued to stare in disbelief, but still they were unsure.

"If you are indeed the King of Gondor," stated the snarling voice, "then show us your blade!"

"You should believe on my word alone that what I speak is truth," Aragorn replied, "but if proof is what you require, I will give it to you." He dismounted suddenly, and Mennev's heart nearly failed at the sight of his King on the ground before so many spears. His horse half-reared in his anxiety, but Tauriel reached over and laid a hand on the black's neck and the horse began to calm almost immediately. Aragorn drew forth the sword and the morning sun glittered along its bright blade as though it was aflame. The Easterlings stared, and some of them, men who were still near the tents, retreated into the camp. Aragorn sheathed the sword once more.

"You are truly the King," stated flat voice, but this time there was respect in it. "You swear you do not wish us harm?"

"We wish to hear your tale, and help heal your many wounded," Aragorn replied honestly. "I have many skilled warriors who would be able for many tasks that require mending, repairing, and healing. We fear that you are in grave danger here, and we are eager to learn of everything you have been through.

"Those with me are Captain Mennev, his Lieutenant Hildanir, and my standard bearer, Garm. Our woodland kin are Tauriel, Captain of the Guard of Lasgalen, and her Lieutenant, Fânrim. Both realms are willing to offer assistance and peace. Please consider our offer; Hildanir will ride back and bring our men forward to aid you, not attack."

Flat voice reached up and removed his helm, his dark hair falling down around his shoulders as he yanked down his scarf, revealing a scarred mouth and cheek from recent battle. "I am Ghashbûr; I was second to the Captain, and now that he is dead it is I who must make decisions for our scattered people." The spears were lifted and several helms removed. "You must have elf-eyes if you could see from such a distance that we have so many who are wounded."

Aragorn reached out a hand to Ghashbûr, and after a moment's hesitation the Easterling Captain clasped his arm. "Your aid," harsh voice commented from behind him, "would be most opportune, as we are in great need, even from strangers."

"You are brave, King Elessar," Ghashbûr said, as Aragorn extended a hand to harsh voice as well, assuming he was second-in-command. "To dismount your horse before forty spears of an unknown and uncounted enemy is either very brave or very foolhardy."

Aragorn bowed his head to him. "You are in need; I hope that we can assist you." He turned briefly back to Hildanir. "Hildanir, will you ride back and gather our people?"

"Of course, my Lord," he replied. "We will return as quickly as we may." He turned his horse as the other four dismounted, the Easterlings carefully watching the Elves as they drew nearer to them. Their movement and fluidity clearly made them nervous, but Aragorn introduced them to Ghashbûr and then harsh voice crossed his arms.

"I am called Luglog," he said, and Aragorn smiled.

"Now we are no longer strangers, Luglog," he said simply. He lifted his head toward Ghashbûr and saw several women among those in full armor greeting the Elves. "Ghashbûr, why did you come west? Why leave the land of your forefathers?" He did not want to tell the Easterling how close the orcs were. Perhaps they did not know, and he did not want to frighten them. Tauriel stepped close, but her eyes were fixed behind Ghashbûr on the many women and children who had come closer to the edge of the camp to stare at them, some with wide eyes, never having seen Gondorians or Elves. Ghashbûr made no move to take them closer into the camp; he seemed to be thinking that perhaps he needed to discover more about them.

"Since the Great War, we have been lost. Sauron made our people his slaves," he said bitterly, the first emotion in his voice since he had first spoken. "He took everything from us and left most of our land barren and dry. And then the orcs came." He spat on the ground, and from behind them there was sudden wailing within the camp and Tauriel's head shot up; though they could not understand the language, it was clear that someone's son or spouse had died. Ghashbûr bowed his head, but Tauriel touched Aragorn's arm.

"Ghashbûr, is that the cry of those mourning the lost?" he asked. "Please, take us to them. You have my word we will not harm anyone. We only seek to help."

"We do not know if we can trust you," Luglog stated firmly, and Tauriel turned her head away as they could hear moaning and crying; these cries of the living in pain. Her heart ached for them.

"Please, my Lord," she said to Ghashbûr, "take us to those who are dying, who need help. The King and I are healers…we can help them."

"I…will take you to our people," he said.

"Ghashbûr, no!" snapped Luglog. "What if—"

"They are already dying!" he snarled back. "There is nothing they could do to harm our people any more than they have been harmed."

"I will be watching," huffed Luglog, angry at being ignored by his commander.

"I hope you will," Aragorn said softly as Tauriel immediately fell in line behind Ghashbûr as he turned to lead them. Aragorn looked into Luglog's face. "Then you will see that you have nothing to fear from us." The Easterling made a low growl in his throat and hefted his spear, prepared to do his worst if any harm should come to his people by their hands.

"My Lord," Mennev said behind Aragorn, and the man allowed Mennev to step up beside him. He murmured in an undertone, "What if these people're serious about harming you? There're many of them, and five of us."

"Everything will be fine, Mennev. Look around you; these are a broken people in need of help. As Tauriel and I work to heal, you and Fânrim speak to Ghashbûr and see what he has to tell."

"Please, Elessar," he muttered, "don't do anything like dismounting from your horse before a bunch of armed strangers again. For my sanity?"

"I did not have time to think of your nerves, Mennev," Aragorn teased softly. "Perhaps next time I will do better?"

"Not funny," he growled as they followed Ghashbûr directly to the middle of the camp. "Not funny at all."


	33. Chapter 33

For the first time Nardur could remember since the Great War, _every_ council member was attentive. He might even say that they were 'on edge' as they had listened to him read the letter they had 'received from Elessar.' It was the first word they had from the front…and it was forged. None of the council knew it of course, Nardur was playing this one so close to his chest that _he_ could not even see all the cards. The letter had been written by himself, presented before the Council as never having been read before, sealed, of course. The letter contained vital information about what the King was encountering; it was actually written not by the King himself, but by Hildanir, Nardur's nephew and trusted servant of the King. Everyone knew that Hildanir and the King were nearly as close as the King and Faramir had become, so no one could doubt the young man's words.

Nardur prided himself that not a person questioned that the letter was truly from the front; no, the only spectacle came from the _content_ of said letter. Without a doubt, that was the cause of the silence among the men of the Council. Most specifically, the section involving a certain elf and the words: _Gondor may soon rejoice! Not only will there be peace in the North, but I think it is possible an heir to the throne may soon be at hand. Long live the House of Telcontar!_

There was more, of course, _some_ detail needed to be provided so there might be no mistake. Detail enough that the men of the council would assume a union had taken place between the two. Though Nardur had no idea when the 'blessed event' might take place, he was making it up as he went along…and the Council right with him.

"It is good to hear that our men are making headway against the orcs," Dintîr said, after a certain amount of silence. Nardur had to laugh inside; purposeful avoidance! _Excellent try, Dintîr!_

"Well, _I_ must say praise to Eärendil!" laughed Sair, in his thick accent. "I for one am glad o' the news o' the King and a possible lover that could bring 'im an heir. Well done, Elessar! About bloody time!" A few councilmen began nodding, and though most sat in uncomfortable silence, some stared at him with utter disgust.

"How _dare_ you!" shouted Jindal suddenly, firing to his feet with a sneer on his face. "What right do you have to cheer on adultery?"

"Keep yer shirt on, Jindal," Sair said, rolling his eyes. "He's the King; the same rules don' apply."

"They most certainly do," he stated, his sneer now a scowl.

"Take your seat, Jindal," Noldore said gently, "and calm down. How do we even know this young man has been seeing what he thinks he has seen? Even as he writes, the King was not more than three weeks from the gates of Minas Tirith."

"He stated that it'd been the King's intention all the while," Sair pointed out as Jindal took his seat. "And more's the better; I hope he insures it. Oh, the celebratin'!"

"Furthermore, my nephew does not _lie_ ," Nardur said to Noldore and the other man frowned.

"I was implying no such thing, Nardur," he replied. "I was simply stating that perhaps he had not _seen_ everything he put forth in his letter. Some…actions between friends can be misconstrued."

"Well, if the King said the things the Lieutenant wrote in his letter, we can be sure he's lying with the elf from Lothlórien," another councilman said gruffly. "I, for one, am glad at the thought of an heir, but hope we can keep the way it's been done a secret."

"Secret, Leonhil?" asked Nardur. "What can you mean?"

"I mean that I don't think it's been done quite the right way. The King should've been forward with us at the very least. Never mind his wife."

"How do we know 'e hasn't been?" asked Sair, shrugging. "Perhaps the Queen knew about it, _has_ known about it since the King left. Maybe they planned it that way!"

"Lady Erumar was going with them to stay in Eryn Lasgalen, you fool," Jindal snapped. "She was not returning with a child for the King!"

"Perhaps the Queen intends to meet them somewhere," Sair argued. "I don't think we can rule out that the Queen may already know."

"I still think this letter needs to stay within this Council," Leonhil stated. "I don't think it appropriate to approach the Queen with such news, nor to ask her if she knew about it already. At least not until we're sure."

"I agree," Dintîr said immediately. "It is imperative no one begins discussing it outside this room."

"No one can control the timing of a child but Ilúvatar," Noldore said, his voice still soft. "Simply because a man…" he forced out the rest of it, "lays with a woman does not mean she will become with child. We must wait, either for confirmation from the King, or more word from your nephew. I will not discredit him, but I would not take one letter as the sole means of communication from the King. In the press of battle many things may be seen."

Many of the councilmen appeared satisfied with this turn of events; they were reluctant to think anything but the best of their King, though the prospect of an heir did not make the action seem so ill. Nardur, however, was delighted with the first set of results: he had sown reasonable doubt. Now all he had to do was encourage it everywhere he could.

 _You need more convincing, do you? Never fear, gentlemen…more details to come!_

* * *

Noldore stood near the window of the seventh level of the Tower of Ecthelion, staring out over the City and the Pelennor; simply staring. Movement caught his eye, three elves walking in the gardens and laughing. She seemed peaceful enough…did she _know?_ Did she have any idea such a thing had taken place? He said nothing as Dintîr stepped up to his side, leaning against the frame of the window and looking where his gaze was directed. They were the only two left in the council chamber.

"I…cannot believe," Dintîr said incredulously, but with sadness.

Noldore said nothing; so Dintîr continued.

"You know, I saw them once," he said thoughtfully, "upon their return to Minas Tirith when they were away so long in Dol Amroth. I went to the stable to meet them and I _caught_ them." He chuckled, embarrassed at his admission. "Elessar came out of the stall, and I pretended not to notice, but I knew…and I had not expected it. They are usually so private and I had walked in on them in such a compromising way. They had dinner with my wife and me that night and we had a full conversation when they left about how much in love they were…how closely they knew one another." He shook his head. "No, Noldore…I cannot believe that he would ever do such a thing."

"I will not believe it either," Noldore said, finally. "Not after everything he said to us, his anger, his frustration with Nardur himself. This is…this is too much. He warned us before he left, did he not? He mentioned that he feared for her, that her heart was the most important thing in his world. He would…he would not do this."

Dintîr was silent for a moment, thinking. "I will ask it, and play the opposite side for one moment. What if—"

"Do not, Dintîr," Noldore groaned, leaning against the window frame himself and looking at the man. "Do not even say it." They stared at one another, and finally Dintîr spoke.

"What if _this_ was the reason Elessar said those things? What if he had been planning this all along and knew that word would be spread? What if he was simply trying to get us to disbelieve it? So that we _would_ conceal it from the Evenstar, so that we _would_ hide it from her as long as we could. What if, Noldore?"

The man stared at him. "Elessar develops no schemes; we _know_ him. He is honest, noble, humble to a fault, and he loves her more than his own life."

"What if the stress from the council finally became too much? The words of the people? The strain on their marriage? The stoning of the ladies on the fourth level? The constant pressure on her to bear him a child? This would relieve her of that pressure; what if he truly convinced himself that this would help her?"

"Dintîr…those arguments are truly revolting."

"But possible."

He stood straight. "I refuse to believe such words, and I _refuse_ to speak one word of this to the Lady, and neither will you. Not one word, Dintîr."

He held up both hands at Noldore's pointed finger poking into his chest. "It will not come from me," he protested. "I am the one who asked for it to remain between all of us. I hope the next letter from Hildanir is much less condemning."

"And that is another thing. _Hildanir_ to send such a letter, from one so close to the King…" Noldore shook his head. "I am at a loss, Dintîr. But please, say no word of this to anyone, not even your wife. If one word of this gets away from us—"

"I will say nothing, Noldore," Dintîr swore. "Not one word."

* * *

The Easterling who was gripping her hand gripped even more tightly, strangling the blood out of Erumar's fingers as he groaned in pain. He was a young man, only about nine years of age or so; his name was Hstin. He had a wound across his chest that was severely infected. His breathing was heavily labored, and Tauriel was sitting beside him, murmuring elvish words; Erumar did not attempt to understand what sort of healing she was doing. His was not the only wound that was this bad; two men Aragorn had tried desperately to rescue from death were found too late. He was not with them now. He had no choice but to stop healing and begin worrying about how they were going to protect these people from the imminent war that was going to be fought right in front of them.

"Breathe," Erumar said softly to the boy, laying her hand on his brow. "Everything is going to be all right, Hstin." He kept his eyes tightly shut, but at least he seemed easier. Whatever Tauriel had been doing was helping. She noticed he was so small for his age.

"I want my mother," he stuttered out, tears on his face.

There was only one reason his mother was not beside him; Erumar did not need to ask. "Just rest now, little one."

Tauriel leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. "You will see your mother very soon now," she whispered, and then she straightened. By the time she had turned away to rinse her hands, he had stopped breathing.

 _Oh…Ilúvatar…I have no heart for this._ Erumar stared at his chest, praying it would rise. It did not, and she sat back, releasing his now limp hand and laying it at his side. She closed her eyes and felt Tauriel's hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head to look into her eyes.

"Come," she said softly, "there are more." Erumar could see the weight of the seemingly impossible task before them, the weight of the burden they would carry of the dead. She swallowed hard and stood to obey her; an Easterling woman covered the boy. "Caswera," Tauriel said to her, "direct us." The woman quietly took them to another little boy, this one even smaller than the last. But at least this one was not as sickly. This one, Tauriel could heal.

Erumar found herself following Tauriel around; she was not a healer, but she could rinse a wound and care for the wounded who were not as severe, and bandage and spread salve. She wanted to be useful, and at the moment, this was where she needed to be. When finally, she could stomach no more and they were down to the last man who had lost a limb, Tauriel recruited Caswera and sent her out to sit outside of the tent where he was lying. Exhausted beyond all reckoning, she sat down in the grass, men flitting back and forth before her, passing her by. She could not even imagine how much more Tauriel was than her, and yet, she continued. This was beyond her; even though she wanted to help, she did not see what more she could do.

She looked down at her hands, bloody and stained, and did not even bother trying to clean them off. Suddenly, startling her, an older woman pressed a cup of cold water into her hands. She looked up at her as the woman mimed drinking.

" _Shlanom_ ," the old woman said, miming again.

"Thank you for your kindness," Erumar said, grateful for the cool water.

The woman repeated the word and hobbled away. She assumed it must have meant thank you, even though she did not understand their language. Other than men hurrying from one end of the camp to the other, the rest of the people were silent. She found some of them staring at her from a distance, and she could not attempt to smile in greeting; she simply kept drinking the water, and hoping that someone would bring some to Tauriel when she finally left the tent as well. These people had _nothing_ ; they had come from a war-ridden, destitute land riddled with fire and ash, bullied and hunted by the last of Sauron's orcs since before the War. The orcs had been hunting them and slaughtering them…even their children. The very thought sickened her.

She lifted her head and her eyes caught sight of Aragorn standing around a small wooden table, Ghashbûr and Luglog stood nearby, along with Mennev, Jeret, and Fânrim. They were looking at a map; Erumar could not make out what Aragorn was saying to them, but they were all nodding and pointing. It was not long after that where she thought the two Easterlings might either break down into tears or leap over the table and kiss Aragorn on the face. The expressions on their faces were priceless, and she had to smile. Yes…Aragorn and his people were bringing these people hope into their darkness. That had been his goal; he had already achieved it.

One of the soldiers, Ethring, stopped nearby her, following her gaze into the tent. She looked over at him; he was often quiet, so she did not know him as well as some of the other men. She watched him shake his head.

"I will never cease to be amazed by the King," he said, mostly to himself. She was not sure if he wanted a reply, but she did anyway.

"I have known him for some time, yet the things he accomplishes amaze me. He is a special person; Ilúvatar is with him."

"I heard that he dismounted before terms were set; it was a dangerous move. I would have thought him a dead man; a lesser man would have been. Instead, he treats with them and he makes plans to give them Gondorian land to rebuild. That is…if we survive this mess."

"Gondorian land? It is no wonder they seem so grateful," she replied, leaning her head back against the tent pole. "He is such a good man."

"They will control the Sea then, the land he will give them. The Council will not like it."

"He does what is just. They will remember the hand that fed them; they are already so thankful."

"I do not understand how he can know everything they need by a glance. How is it possible? How can one man be able to read another so well when he barely knows them?"

"The King has many gifts," she said softly with a smile. "I have seen some of them in action, and I have learned not to question what Ilúvatar has given. I, too, have been grateful for his gifts."

"I had heard you knew the King for many years before coming here."

"Perhaps not many, but I met him long ago in Lothlórien when he stayed there a brief time. He…rescued my husband from the very gates of death; ever will I owe him a great debt."

So _this_ was the debt Erumar owed the King; Ethring knew there had been something that bound her to him. He thought about what he would soon be requesting of her. "What might you do to repay that debt, Lady?" he asked, and he wondered if she would answer, her eyes now fixed inside that tent, watching Aragorn treat with the Easterlings, pledged whatever they needed to rebuild.

His question gave her pause, but only because she wanted to be serious about the way she answered it. She thought of all the good he had done, all the good he would still do with his life, and what she would do to continue his legacy of peace and service to others.

"Anything," she said fervently. "I would give anything for him to continue his great deeds. But not only because I owe him a debt, but because I love him. He is worthy of my honor, my respect, my devotion. It would honor me to help him in any small way."

Ethring nodded. "All honor the King in some way. I would give him my life as a soldier of Gondor, to protect him. He has been faithful to us, all the years he has been King. Valar willing, there will be many more."

"Amen," she said softly.

"I must be off," he said, glancing down at her, thinking of her response that she would do anything and how he could use that to his advantage. "I am needed to fall several trees a little way from here, to create a barricade. Have a good day, my Lady."

"And you, Ethring," she replied, and rested her head back against the tent stake again. Between the heat of the day and her exhaustion, she was ready to sleep. She took another drink of the cool water the old woman had provided.

He was only gone a few moments from her side when she felt more than heard a thump hit the ground next to her. She lifted her head and looked, and beside her was Tauriel, looking even more exhausted than she felt. Erumar did not say anything at first, but looked at her face as she stared around the Easterling camp with her eyes half-lidded, listening to the cacophony of sounds coming from every direction. Tauriel was beautiful; Erumar had never seen ears as long and pointed as hers, and she had never seen a red-haired elf either, and she had been alive a very long time.

"These people have so many needs," Tauriel said. "Thank you, Erumar, for your help."

"You worked very hard," Erumar replied. "Your healing helped so many today."

"If I had come more quickly, I would have saved more."

Erumar stared at her, hearing the pain in her voice even as she held it in. "Aragorn needed to be the one to offer them aid, help in rebuilding and land for creating a new life for themselves. Your Kingdom could not have done such a thing, to offer land not their own. There was nothing more you could have done for them than that you have already done."

"I…do not like feeling helpless in a situation."

"Nor I," she replied. "But we were useful here. I feel as though I will be more useless in the days that are to come."

Tauriel tilted her head. "You made a good shot into the dark and killed an orc by sound instead of sight. No man could have made that shot save perhaps one or two. As a bowman, Fânrim will feel blessed to have you. We are few in number, but strong in heart; we will win the nights of battle against this enemy."

Erumar smiled. "You sound like Aragorn."

"Who better?" Tauriel asked tiredly. She leaned her head forward on her arm which rested on her knee. "Where did you get water?" she muttered. "I am so _thirsty_."

"A woman—" she cut off as Tauriel's head shot up when the old woman touched her arm. The woman would have leapt back if she could have, startled at Tauriel's sudden movement. As it was, instead she stumbled backward. Luckily, even tired, Tauriel still had quick reflexes and grabbed the woman before she fell.

"Forgive me," she said, releasing her and then lifting her hands in a gesture of 'no harm.' The woman nodded and then began to shuffle away. Tauriel and Erumar watched her, confused. "Why did she—"

The woman stopped, looked back at them, and nodded again. " _Tilcha."_

Erumar slowly got to her feet. "I have a feeling she would like us to follow her."

"Is she the Easterling who gave you water?" Erumar nodded and immediately, Tauriel climbed to her feet as well and set out to follow her. "If she will lead me to water, I will follow her."

The woman led them into a small tent; it was more than likely her own, and on the grassy area there lay two small mats. On the opposite side of the tent was a man with a leg wound who was sitting on the ground, Tauriel recognized him from working on his leg earlier that day. He said nothing, but bowed his head to them and extended his hand.

" _Tilcha_ , _ish keviin delamwa,_ " he said. Tauriel and Erumar glanced over at him and then to where he was pointing. Tauriel, who had been leading the way, came to a halt in front of the mats first. She scanned the area, looking for anything that they may have wanted them to see.

"What is it?" asked Erumar, confused. Tauriel shook her head.

"I do not know," she said, "and I do not understand their language."

"Neither do I," Erumar sadly admitted.

Tauriel turned back, frowning at the man. "Forgive our ignorance," she said. "We—"

" _Tilcha,_ " the woman said, shuffling past them and then she began pointing at the mats. " _Ish keviin delamwa_ ," she repeated, and Erumar studied her. She had no idea what the woman was saying, and she was too tired to figure it out. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, wanting to groan in frustration.

The woman reached past Tauriel; she clearly was not going to touch her again. Instead, she caught Erumar's arm, forgetting about trying to communicate with words, and tugged her over to the mat. She made a sitting motion with her hands and her own body, and Erumar finally understood.

"Tauriel," she said softly, "they want us to rest here."

The younger elf stared at the woman and then shook her head, looking back to the older man. "No," she said, pointing at him and then to the mat, " _you_ need your rest."

The man shook his head violently. " _Ish delamwa_ ," he said, pointing over and over at the mat. " _Ve ishr kidtesna._ "

" _Ve ishr kidtesna,_ " the woman repeated, extending her hand again and then trying to draw Erumar down. Erumar was not going to refuse her again, and she was exhausted. Tauriel looked ready for an argument with the man, but Erumar reached out and touched her arm.

"Let them give what little they can," she whispered, and Tauriel looked at her. "Let them be grateful to you, to us, for helping them."

The woman pushed a cup of cold water into Tauriel's hands and she looked down at it. "Thank you," she said, glancing up into the old face.

" _Shlanom_ ," the woman said in her language with a smile as Erumar lowered herself to sit on the mat.

"Shlanom," Tauriel repeated, bowing her head. The old woman extended her hand again and Tauriel moved to take her place there beside the other mat as she drank. She looked over at Erumar as she took a seat on it, and Erumar smiled, already flat out, her head cushioned on her arm.

"'Take some rest,'" she said softly. "I think that was what they were saying: 'Take some rest; for your kindness.'" Tauriel nodded, lying down herself. Erumar could see the weariness take her as though a burden was lifted from her shoulders.

"We should have told someone where we were," she murmured, setting down the cup, and her eyes glazed over.

"This camp is not so large they will not find us if they are looking," Erumar reassured her, but Tauriel was already asleep. Erumar looked up at the woman, who leaned down to fill both of their cups again.

"Shlanom," she said to her and the woman smiled, nodding. Then she left them to rest.

* * *

It was evening in Minas Tirith, and Legolas had made dinner for his lovely wife and for Arwen. Enguina had been craving something from the Market and Arwen had some errands to run in the City today, so he had made dinner so he could continue to spend time with Enguina and accomplish something at the same time. The food had been good, and he was glad of it; he felt both of the women in his current company needed more than he could provide. It was not often that he felt this way; with Enguina, he usually could identify what she wanted and what was happening with her. He was a bit unprepared to handle a pregnant woman. His normal wife he could sort out in moments, but she…was not so normal. And Arwen…well…he could not solve anything dealing with her.

Enguina was nearly eight months pregnant. She was beginning to look much larger to him and was appearing to move around a bit more awkwardly. She was struggling to maintain her usual demeanor and activity level, but she simply could not anymore. That was very difficult to admit; she was tired, and he could tell tonight. Arwen looked different to him as well, and his unease with the change was growing the longer he was in Minas Tirith. For three weeks he had been keeping an eye on them both, and Arwen was growing more tired, more care-worn, and he was unsure if it was simply stress, if it was being without Aragorn, if it was worry for Enguina, or…if it was something more.

He looked at them, watching as Arwen reached across the table to take Enguina's hand.

"You seem tired, Enguina," Arwen said to her softly as she studied her face. "Are you well tonight?"

Enguina sighed softly. "I _am_ tired. The baby has not been sleeping well, but _I_ am fine. I am just a little more tired than usual…even though I have been sitting about all day."

"You have not," Legolas chided her. "You have been helping me."

She rolled her eyes. "Sitting around and helping you, you mean."

"That is not true," Legolas stated. "You were on your feet most of the day. We took a walk through the gardens, visited Lómë and Brethil, _and_ went to the Market for lunch and to purchase the fixings for dinner."

Arwen gave them both an admonishing look. "Why did you not say so before? I could have left earlier and let you take some rest. You should not stay awake to entertain me; I have a piece of wood I should be whittling for a child, you know."

Legolas smiled as he began to put away the dishes and Enguina continued. "I am _fine_. I am supposed to get exercise. And furthermore, if anyone looks tired, it is _you_."

"Do not make this about me," Arwen said sternly. "Do not change the subject."

"The Healers said I was supposed to get exercise! I cannot lay around all day!" she said, and Legolas took a position behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them gently. She sighed under Arwen's critical eyes as she closed hers.

"They _did_ also say yesterday that you need periods of rest," Legolas added, "and that you need to take it easy. As Arwen said, in another week you _will_ be eight months."

"You are nearly asleep where you sit," Arwen pointed out, this time with a bit of a smile. "Come now, just go to sleep and make me feel better about having to harp at you."

"You are both simply impossible," Enguina sighed and slipped out from beneath Legolas's hands. "Fine, I shall go and lie down." She walked towards the other room and as Legolas began to follow her, she held out her hand and pushed against his chest. "I can find my way, meleth," she teased. "Go and walk Arwen home or something."

He leaned in close to her. "When I return, I shall rub those very sore feet."

"Who said they were sore?" she asked him, her voice lowering.

"It is in your stride. Only one who knows you as well as I would ever see it." He leaned away and she caught the edge of his blue tunic in her hand before tugging him close for a kiss. It lasted for several moments, making Arwen finally look away and finish pushing in the chairs at the table before Legolas leaned back. He stroked her cheek once. "I will be right back."

Enguina nodded. "Good night, Arwen."

"Good night, dearest," she replied, and Legolas followed her to the door as Enguina vanished down the hall. They came out onto the porch and Arwen waved him off. "Do not fret over me, Legolas," she told him. "I am very capable of making it to my own door. You can almost see it from here."

He touched her arm, coming down to the bottom of the stairs behind her. "Will you speak with me for a moment?" he asked, and she looked over at him with some alarm. "Let us walk."

"What is it?" she asked. "Is Enguina—"

"It is you I am worried for," he said, and he knew she was trying to think of a good reply for him. "Enguina is right about you being tired." He cut across her as she tried to speak. "Do not attempt to deny it. I know some of the things that are troubling you; Enguina has told me some of what has happened."

She blushed terribly, and looked mortified. She _never_ thought Enguina would tell him the things that she had done, what she had felt, how she had treated Aragorn. Some things…were not meant to be shared. Though, as she had no secrets from Aragorn, it made sense that Enguina would have none from her husband. That did not make it any easier to accept. "Legolas…Legolas, I…"

"Clearly she did not share enough if you are beginning to stammer," he said gently. "She gave me no particulars, only that there were rumors. That you were being spoken of, that our blessing of a child was hard on you."

"Oh, god, Legolas…" she muttered, her face pained at his words, "that is not true! Your child _is_ a blessing! I am thrilled for you both; I cannot wait for him to be born, I—"

"I am not saying that you are not happy for us," he said, reaching down for her hand. "I am saying that the people expect something from you that is unfair and it has been weighing on you heavily. Enguina has said as much." He eyed her. "But I think there is more…beyond that, that you do not share."

"There is nothing," she refused him stubbornly.

"You are not sleeping well. I can see exhaustion. If I can see Enguina, I can certainly see you. What are you dreaming about? Are you worried about us?"

"No," she replied. "No, this…none of this is about you. I…" She hesitated, trying to figure out how she could answer him. "I feel dread," she admitted. "I feel foreboding as I have never felt."

"Dread?" he asked. "Do you sense the child?"

"Stop worrying," she said softly. "No, I do not sense the child. Aragorn has been in my dreams."

"What do you sense about him?"

She shook her head. "Trouble. I get a sense of urgency whenever I touch his mind; he is calm…but I keep seeing…I see _danger_ at night. He is…wounded in my dreams."

"I heard a letter came from Hildanir two days ago and that it was well-received," he said gently, trying to draw out her worry. "I heard that he said that they had encountered some orcs, but that—"

"Yes, I know," she replied, touching her forehead. "I think these are just worries; that they are not real."

"You cannot run from a vision, if that is what this is," he said gravely.

 _Legolas, please do not say such things…I am so afraid right now! The dark-haired woman and her hands on my husband; the loss of the child, of being barren forever; the possibility of Aragorn in grave danger and wounded and…please, Legolas…do not make me fear the night any more than I already do! They cannot be real! They cannot be true! Impossible!_

"I do not believe they are visions," she murmured. "I think they are a buildup of my fears all coming together. I think I need to shut down my brain at night, but I am finding that very difficult to do."

"What is this dread you feel?"

"It must be nothing," she said, as they came to the steps of the King's House. "It _has_ to be nothing. It would be ridiculous," she added shaking her head. "It makes no sense."

He invaded her space, staring into her eyes and looking at her firmly; it almost made her take a step back. "Please, I am asking as your friend, Arwen. I cannot help you if you do not let me."

She wanted to lie to him, to stop him from questioning her because she did not know how to answer. She looked so small to him in that moment, as though she wanted to wrap her arms around herself and not let go. "How can I describe to you how I feel? I feel…dread, as though something terrible is about to come, like a storm that I cannot stop. It was before Enguina came that I felt it…but now it is stronger than ever. Every time I close my eyes I feel it."

"So it _could_ have something to do with the child," he said, and she shook her head forcefully.

"No, I do not think so," she said. "In my dreams I have no sense of your baby, Legolas. I do not think it has anything to do with you or Enguina."

He looked at her. "What about your own?"

"That…plagued me before this," she whispered, and now she did hug herself, looking away from his eyes. "No, that is not dread…that is grief."

Legolas waited a moment and then pressed her. "Could it be because Aragorn is not here? Could it be that you are missing him, that you wish he were safe here with you so you are dreaming about him being wounded, hurt?"

"I…it is possible," she admitted, though she knew it could not only be that. The dread had been going on much longer than that. "It _has_ been weighing on my heart; it has been a long time since we have been apart."

He stared at her. "There is much you do not say. There is more to your dream."

"Yes," she admitted again. "I believe there is much more. But I do not want to give _you_ cause to worry, Legolas. These things that are invading my dreams…they cannot be real. In fact, they are impossible."

"It is not impossible for Aragorn to be wounded."

"No, not…that, but…something else."

"Will you speak of it?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered, "I will not say the words aloud as if they were something real. They cannot be, Legolas. Do not ask me, please."

"I have already asked."

"Then do not ask again," she said. "I will not discuss something so…ridiculous. They are the fears in my mind, plaguing me…nothing more." She looked into his face. "You should go; Enguina will be looking for you."

"I wish you would come and stay with us," he said suddenly. "I wish you would sleep at the guesthouse. You would be close, and both of us would be easier."

"I will not come," she said firmly. "You are wed now, and I will not come between you."

"Arwen, Enguina and I have forever to be together. Erumar lived with us for nearly four years, and my father, _and_ Gimli. Please, you are not—"

"I will feel like an intruder," she said. "No, Legolas. I will stay here where I belong."

"If you will not come, will you at least promise me something?" He saw her hesitate; she would not promise without knowing what he wanted first. "If the dreams get worse, will you come to us? Ever you have been here for Guin, especially when I could not. Please…you are family."

She nodded. "I...will promise." He could tell that she did not want to, but she nodded. "Go home to Enguina, Legolas. Thank you for your concern; try not to worry." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she added again, sincerely. He nodded as he watched her head up the steps and go inside. He turned back to the guesthouse.


	34. Chapter 34

Author's Note: Enjoy, WickedGreene13; more Legolas sweet stuff for you! LOL (And everyone else, enjoy, of course!)

* * *

Legolas made his way around the kitchen just to make sure everything was clean before traveling down the hall to the bedroom. He had to smile when he poked his head inside.

"That does not look to me like someone getting their rest," he teased. She was lying sideways across the bed on her back which surprised him, taking up both sides of the bed and staring at him. She was already giggling, her hair hanging down over the bed as well. Tonight she had pulled on one of his very old tunics and her undergarments; it barely covered to her thighs while she lay on the bed, but she was as beautiful as ever, even in one of his ratty shirts. He smiled at her antics.

"You have returned, my Prince."

"That cannot be comfortable, Guin."

"Actually, it is stretching out my back, which was bothering me most of the day," she sighed. "I wish I could lie on my stomach, but that is obviously out of the question being as large as I am." She gave him a little grin. "I was waiting for my slave to give me a foot massage, actually."

"Cheeky," he said to her, and he crossed his arms. "I am no longer in the mood."

She frowned suddenly at the serious expression on his face. "Truly?"

"Honestly."

"That…makes me sad." She said it so seriously that he realized that _she_ did not realize that he was playing with her.

"Guin, I am only teasing you," he said, tilting his head. "I want nothing more in the world right now than to rub your feet." Her eyes lit back up as she blushed. He reached down and grabbed her ankles, swinging her around as she suddenly laughed until she was on her side of the bed. He then hauled over all the pillows and built them up underneath her, stuffing them one at a time behind her back to sit her up a little. She giggled as he flopped himself down near her feet, scooping her leg into his lap.

"Ooo," she said, "is there lotion in my future?"

"Mmm," he replied, rubbing some on his hands before taking her foot in his hands, her calf resting on his leg. He gently rubbed the bottom of her foot and then each individual toe. He did not watch his own hands; he knew what he was doing. No, what he enjoyed watching was the expression of utter bliss on her face.

"Do you have _any_ idea how good that feels?" she whispered, and he smiled to himself.

"I have some idea."

"It should be a sin," she groaned. "Something that feels this good cannot be right."

He laughed at her words. " _Everything_ is right for us…we are married. And _you_ are beautiful tonight. When I walked in and saw you lying here in that old shirt of mine, I did not expect to be thinking about how lovely you were."

"Are you going to rub that lotion anywhere else?" she asked, and her voice was quiet, soft…embarrassed. He smiled.

"I am going to find every sore spot and rub them into submission." She giggled at his words as he slid his fingers in between her toes and out again several times. He watched her eyes close again.

"You are nearly out of lotion."

He smiled. "Did you not see me at the Market today? I bought enough for the rest of your pregnancy…and after. If I could have, I would have bought enough for the rest of our lives."

"You are the most thoughtful man in Middle-Earth." She nibbled the inside of her upper lip. "You should…move on to the next foot."

He smiled. "Am I arousing you, Guin?"

"I _was_ tired five minutes ago," she admitted softly. "But I am very much willing to see where this leads." He laughed and let his hands travel to her ankles, rubbing and massaging up even to her calves. She was quiet for a moment, but then she said, "Before she left, Erumar told me something strange that disturbed me."

If Legolas was surprised by the turn of conversation, he did not show it. "Oh? What was that?"

"She told me that it was likely I would not want you as I have when I was close to having the baby, because I will be uncomfortable as I grow heavier with child." There was silence as he waited for her to say anything more, but she did not.

"Why did that disturb you?"

"I cannot imagine a moment without wanting you," she said. "I cannot imagine not desiring you as close to me as I can get you, whenever I can, whenever I want, whenever _you_ want…I cannot imagine you arousing me and then me refusing you." He laughed softly at her words. "Is that wrong?"

He laughed. "Well, when we cannot get enough of each other, I suppose it is difficult to imagine." He switched to her other foot, leaving anything above her knee out of it for the moment.

"She also said that when the baby is born I will have to divide my time…" _Oh, that is heavenly, Legolas…_ "…because the baby will take much of our alone time."

"I would not worry," he said, and this time he did not laugh. "We will have another life to enjoy and love, one that we made together. I think there will be time to love, and there will be time for restraint." He smiled at her as she opened her eyes finally and looked at him. "We have shown restraint when Erumar was in the house…my father…"

She nodded. "It will not be very different."

"No. I think Erumar was simply cautioning you that life will change. I am sure she was not attempting to frighten you." He grew more serious. "I walked Arwen home tonight."

"How was she?"

"Tired, as you said. Have you spoken to her about these dreams she has been having of dread?"

"No…what sort of dread?" Her hands drifted to her womb and she rubbed her hands along the place the baby lay. "Not a vision about—"

"No, I think she would tell me that, but she was not very specific. She mentioned Aragorn; she had a dream about him being wounded, and something else she would not speak of. She feels something terrible is coming and she is powerless to stop it."

She lifted her head and looked at him seriously. "She said that?"

"Not in so many words. I…reworded what she said a little. _My_ worry remains. I…know that you have made the decision to stay here, but I am beginning to wonder about these dreams." She reached for him with her hand, and he came closer to her, sitting beside her hip, but he did not lay down beside her. Instead, he unbuttoned the tunic from hip to her breast, exposing only the child. He lay his lotion-covered hands on her again and began to massage her belly.

"Tell me what you are thinking," she said, looking at him.

"I am worried that if something happens and we need to leave Minas Tirith for _any_ reason, it is going to be too late…and you will be forced to have this baby in the middle of the woods."

" _Legolas…_ "

"I am serious, Guin," he said, lifting his head to look at her. "I am _terrified_ of being alone with you when you begin labor and not knowing what in the world I am supposed to do. You are almost eight months and I know nothing more than I did five months ago."

"Shh…you should not worry," she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "Everything is going to be fine. What could happen in Minas Tirith that would cause us to leave? That is nonsense, Legolas; that is fear talking."

"Yes," he murmured, and she laid her hands over his.

"Leave this with Ilúvatar, meleth. He will have us where he wants us for this child to be born into the world at the right time. Do not worry."

"When I look at you," he said, "I try to stay calm, but inside…sometimes, my heart races in my chest. The time _is_ drawing near, and I want you to be safe. Everything does not need to be perfect, but…it needs to be right."

"What, my dearest," she whispered, squeezing his hands, "you cannot see yourself in the midst of the trees of Ithilien with the starlight overhead, holding my hands as I—"

"Do not even tease me," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."

"Forgive me," she said gently. "I was trying to tease you to make you feel better."

"It does not make me feel better," he muttered, and he felt his stomach flip over. "It makes me ill simply thinking about it."

"Are you really that—"

"I was not joking with you," he stated. "Sometimes, when I think of you going into labor and straining and the pain and…" He shook his head. "I can barely think about it without feeling anxious beyond all comprehension. I try to release it to Ilúvatar every time, but…it simply is."

"We could not leave Arwen now either," Enguina added, looking at him seriously. "I would not leave her, especially if you think her dreams are visions, not dreams." Her voice lowered with worry. "Do you really think Aragorn may be wounded?"

He shook his head. "I do not know. I _do_ know that either way, there is absolutely nothing we can do about it…about any of it. I am worried about the Council, the words of Dintîr to her. When I spoke with him and Noldore the other day, they did not have much to say, only that Aragorn had asked them to watch out for Arwen within the Council. But they…" he shook his head. "I feel as though something has already happened. I feel like they _know_ something, but are being secretive."

"Why would they be secretive with you? They know that you would do anything to protect her; that _we_ would."

"I am not sure." He looked back to her abdomen and smoothed his hands over it once more, and then leaned down to kiss her. "Goodness, our little baby is growing so quickly."

"Names…" she said to him softly. "We do not have names yet."

"Mmm," he said, frowning. " _Names_ …"

She suddenly giggled. "Erumar helped me come up with a few, but they were hilarious, like Prince of Trolls and…well, things like that."

"Oh, definitely call him that," Legolas laughed. "Torogernil. What a beautiful name."

"You _are_ a troll sometimes," she murmured, "and he _is_ your son." He reached down and caught her foot between his hands, holding tight to her ankle even as she tried to pull it away. " _No!_ No, _Legolas_ , _please!_ " She desperately tried to get away as she laughed uncontrollably as he tickled her. She writhed, half-sitting up and reaching for him; catching his arm and pulling did not work. _Legolas!_

He stopped, releasing her and sliding onto the bed with her, dragging her onto her side and wrapping himself around her; she was still giggling as she wrapped her hands forcefully behind his neck and into his hair, kissing him breathlessly.

"That was _mean_ ," she muttered into his mouth and then pulled back to look in his eyes.

"You were mean first. What if the child is a girl?"

She shook her head. "Mm-mm."

"What do you mean?"

"I will _not_ tell you. I am not going to let you tickle me into submission again." He dragged his hand underneath her arm and down her side, shifting aside the mostly unbuttoned tunic to tickle his fingers along her ribs. "Be careful with those," she warned, but it was fruitless as she tried to grab his hand and he danced away along her back and then to her hip. Her body pressed into him as much as she could and he laughed as he kissed her again.

"You love it when I tickle you."

"I cannot tell you the truth about everything," she said softly. "If I told you that I enjoyed it, I would not be able to yell at you, or beg you not to do it."

"You could still beg me," he murmured, running his hand back and forth across her hip. "I would simply ignore you." He kissed her once more and then took his hand to her belly. "I need to know if this is going to go any further tonight," he whispered. "I am willing, either way. Whatever you want, just tell me. Are you still tired? Be honest with me."

She hesitated. "I…want to make love with you," she told him, "but I…I _am_ exhausted."

He smiled and kissed her, even through her look of awful disappointment. "Guin, my darling, there will be more evenings and mornings, do not worry. I wanted you to be honest with me; please, do not be embarrassed. I adore you; there will be other times."

"Tomorrow?" she asked, cuddling into him as close as she could get.

"Whenever you would like," he told her. "Let me hold you close tonight, the baby between us." He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her belly gently. "Perhaps we can soothe the little troll by being sheltered in the midst of our love."

She giggled at his reference and then sighed. "Oh, how I love you. You make me so happy."

He pressed more kisses to the top of her head. "I love every moment we spend together. Sleep well tonight, my lovely Guin."

* * *

War preparations were in full swing in the Easterling camp. The final touches on barricades were being erected in several locations, and the women, children, and wounded had left three days ago to make their way further north; the older women had been placed in charge of this evacuation, as all of the men, even those with minor injuries, and several women, had pledged themselves to wage war on the orcs. Aragorn had originally hoped that Erumar would go with them and keep them together, but Tauriel had already convinced her that Fânrim could use her as a bowman. Erumar had been spending much of her time getting to know Tauriel in the past week and looked upon her as a role model. Tauriel was a warrior and many things that Erumar herself was not. Aragorn would never have been able to tell her otherwise, especially not with Tauriel standing over her shoulder.

The orcs' march would bring their opposing forces together by tonight; they were exactly seven leagues away right at this moment, but the unending, driving rainstorm that had arrived was allowing them to move closer and quickly. The scouts had reported after a week of riding out and watching them carefully that since a terrible storm was brewing, the darkness was aiding the orcs and they were progressing toward them much more rapidly.

In the meantime, Aragorn and Tauriel had been spending much time talking strategy with the Easterlings and they had devised quite a plan to take out the orcs. From the last two scouts that returned, they learned that the orcs now numbered nearly a thousand; that was quite a force for one hundred-fifty men and women. But this stand had to be made. They could not let the orcs chase them all the way across the plain, slaughtering as they went. The time for running had ended, and the Easterlings very much agreed they had enough.

Aragorn stood in the pouring rain, watching the sky; there was definitely something strange going on in the atmosphere. He was worried, and it had nothing to do with the oncoming battle. Tauriel stepped up to his side, Erumar slightly behind her; the two of them had been shooting targets with the rest of the bowmen. This weather was very different than the majority of the men of Gondor had fought in before. They needed to be prepared for anything.

"The horses are restless," Aragorn said softly. "This weather is…strange."

Tauriel nodded. "I feel it. Windstorm weather," she said, and Aragorn nodded.

"We shall have to be wary," he said. "I am worried that there is little protection on this plain, and we have few enough men as it is." He turned to look at her, and smiled when he saw the two of them soaking wet. "How was the practice?"

"Excellent," she said as they turned back towards camp. "Erumar is a natural with a bow, though she claims no prior experience." Aragorn touched Erumar's back to guide her down the hill with them, and she and Tauriel smiled at each other.

"None at all," Aragorn said as Erumar shook her head. "Though I would expect that all of you are naturally talented at such things."

"Elessar," said Fânrim, bowing his head to them, "Jeret and I are taking the bowmen to the front to be ready and lie in wait as we planned. The horses we will hide behind our barricades so they will be ready for us to ride away by the time the wave of orcs come upon us, when we are nearly overrun."

Aragorn reached out and touched his shoulder. "Fânrim, I expect to see you before morning. Do not let that happen; there will be no orcs overrunning you."

He smiled. "Of course, my Lord." He looked towards Tauriel. "Captain, are you coming with us?"

"For now," she replied. "Then I will return for knife-work here." She glanced towards Aragorn and then back to Fânrim. "I think my place will be here."

"You need not stay for me," Aragorn replied. "If I did not need to stay here, I would join you with my bow in the front near our disguised barricades. They _will_ work," he reminded Fânrim.

"Yes," Tauriel agreed.

Aragorn turned to Erumar and lifted her chin gently with his hand. "And you…you shall be at the front." His eyes were worried.

"You have no faith in my skill, hmm?" she teased him.

"You were not made to be a warrior, Erumar."

She smiled. "True, but I will do my part and defend these people."

"Enguina will never forgive me if you are hurt," he said honestly. "And neither will…someone else." Erumar laughed and blushed knowing exactly to whom he was referring, and then laid her hand on his shoulder.

"And Arwen would never forgive me if _you_ are."

"You were not entrusted with my care," he cautioned her. "If I am foolish enough to be wounded, then that is my own folly. But please, I beg you…be careful."

"I will watch out for her," Tauriel interrupted softly. "But we shall be far from swords, Aragorn. Erumar will not be in that part of the battle. She will remain with Fânrim and his men when we return, shooting at our foes from a distance."

"Come," Fânrim said. "We must be undercover before the light fades."

"I will see you before dawn."

There were no goodbyes; only simple smiles and bowing of their heads. Aragorn watched them mount up with twenty-five bowmen and ride out into the pouring rain toward their positions. He _hated_ not being part of the first assault, but he was needed here. The final preparations were happening here. He turned back and met the eyes of Hildanir and Mennev, even Luglog and Ghashbûr were there.

"Where are we, gentlemen? How are your men?

"Prepared, Elessar," said Mennev firmly.

"We are ready to do our part," added Ghashbûr, striking his fist against his chest. "For your aid, we will sacrifice what we must; for our people, for a new home."

"I am hoping that our plans for attack are such that we will not lose many lives," Aragorn said softly. "I pray that none of us must make many sacrifices today. As Ilúvatar wills, we pray that the battle will hinge on our stealth and our ability to move quickly. We must ride out to the third set of disguised barricades ourselves, so we must not dawdle here too long. Preparation is key."

"Lead us, Elessar," Ghashbûr said, and Luglog hefted a double-bladed scythe-looking weapon that Aragorn had never seen before…but it appeared positively deadly with the ability to swing it in two directions without turning. The seventy Easterlings nearby were in full armor, and they all held weapons that were spear-like in nature. It was clear the Gondorian soldiers were prepared as well. Even though every armored person here was as wet as having taken a bath, they were ready. Each man would help make the difference between victory and defeat.

"Come," Aragorn said, and he walked down the hill into the midst of the horses of his guard. Hildanir held Brego for him. He raised a hand and the men grew silent. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice carrying even through the rain and rumbling of thunder. "We are gathered here on this spot. Before our friends begin this fight, let us take a knee and ask for their safety from the One."

Men all around him knelt down; many of the Easterlings did not understand what they were doing so they remained standing. Aragorn took a knee as well, and bowed his head.

"Ilúvatar, most faithful One…you are healer, protector, sustainer, guide and friend. We have seen you protect and care for the Reunited Kingdom; we have seen you make peace where there once was war. I come before you today to ask for the safety of these men and women who surround me, and our bowmen, who have ridden away for the first fight. We want to protect these people; they have a right to continue living, for their people to be safe, as do all whom you have created on your good earth. You see what we are doing; I know that it is your will that we take this stand. Give us the strength and the courage to do your will. Give us your guidance; help us to protect each other, to stand as one and help our brothers in the world. Help us stand strong in the face of evil and care for the innocent. Guide all of us on our way and protect us, we pray. Amen."

The men got to their feet and began mounting up almost immediately. Aragorn rose himself and turned back to Hildanir to take Brego's reins from him. He stroked the bay's forehead. "Brego, mellon nîn, here we are again," he murmured, and the horse pushed his nose into the man's chest. "Yes, I know," he added, "you are so faithful, friend." Hildanir laughed softly from his left.

"You talk as though he speaks."

Brego snorted and Aragorn smiled. "He does, Hildanir." Ghashbûr appeared on his right as Aragorn brushed the bay's forelock off the star on his forehead.

"I do not know this god you speak to," he stated. "Our people usually trust none but our own."

Aragorn nodded. "I understand. Ilúvatar is the Almighty, the One…the one who watches over us. His will be done tonight," he said honestly. "We do not control our own fates."

"We do," Luglog said from behind him. "You Gondorians are a peculiar people."

"We trust the One," Aragorn said. "It is in him we have our faith. Mount up, gentlemen. We ride to the barricade, and may Ilúvatar give you his grace even when you do not know him. Perhaps he will share it with you this very night."

"Perhaps," Ghashbûr said, and the two of them mounted horses as well as Aragorn swung up onto Brego's back.

"Ride now!" came Mennev's cry, and as Aragorn headed out, everyone else fell in behind.

* * *

It had been an interesting day for Legolas. Enguina had woken up with several strange desires today, not the least of which had him running about looking for goat cheese. Legolas was lucky enough that he knew _where_ to acquire the best goat cheese as he had lived in Minas Tirith for several years. The cheese was one of Enguina's favorite foods when she had been here, and it was difficult to come by in Ithilien. He had also been warned by both Faramir and Éomer that a woman with child often craved things so he was not completely caught unaware. The market had two stalls that sold the cheese, and he was coming back from the farthest one when he happened to notice a shop that was selling baby items. Normally, Legolas did not look at these wares, but because he was now having a child, he found himself drawn to them. He stopped to look at the tiny baby booties that would be unnecessary on an Elvish child, even one so young, but he could not help but stare at how adorable they were. There were also several outfits that were nearby that were very nicely made as well.

It was standing there that Legolas overheard some voices on his left just outside of the local tavern. There were not many people in the Market today, so the streets were fairly empty. Legolas was not usually an eavesdropper and hardly paid attention to the conversations he heard in the street, and he would have paid no mind to this conversation either if he had not heard the words: 'Elessar' and 'the Lady.' He felt his blood begin to burn within him; there was nothing he hated more than to hear men speak inappropriately of the King and Queen of Gondor. He angled himself to hear the men of the tavern who had just stepped up onto the porch.

"I 'rd that she went _with_ 'im for that reason, that 'e _took_ 'er with 'im."

"Oh come off it, Gil," snorted another voice. "Yer friends on the Council will say almost anything! Yer can't expect the common man 'round Minas Tirith to believe such tales!"

"What if it ain't nonsense? That's what them other stewards did in the past."

"He ain't a steward, ya fool! This here's the King o' Gondor we're talking about, an' you best keep yer trap shut b'fore it gets ya inta trouble! It's just plain gossip, Gil, and that's all."

"It ain't, Edril. I mean," Gil continued firmly, "whenever there'd been an issue in the past, they'd always take another—"

"Yeah, that don't mean he's gonna do it, ya gullible crow," snapped Edril. "It's outta wedlock and that means he ain't gonna do it. It's against our law, even!"

"Aw, c'mon Edril! Yer can't tell me 'e don't think 'e's above the law, do ya? And look'it all the ones behind 'im. Look at Denethor! Now ' _e_ was—"

"We all know enough about the Steward," Edril replied, rolling his eyes. "And I'm glad 'e's gone. I'll never forget when I saw 'is poor boy ridin' out ta his death with all those stinkin' Mordor rats in Osgiliath. Thought 'e was crazy, I did; I said so then!"

"Well, 'e did the same, didn't 'e? Had a _couple_ on the side after his wife was a goner—"

"Come off it, Gil!" roared Edril, shoving the man. "I'm tellin' ya! Not him!"

"But I'm tellin' _ya_ , Ed," Gil repeated, shaking his head, "he's gotta be beddin' her. That's why she went in the first place. The elf even _looks_ like her, too! I mean, how's the Queen gonna take it? When she finds out're husband's been fiddlin' around with another woman 'o—"

Legolas saw Edril strike Gil in the back of the head and then he shouted. "Enough outta ya! Get inside and stop blatherin' on when ya don't know nothin'! And don't ya be spreadin' no stories, neither."

Gil stormed towards the door. "I'm _tellin_ ' ya it ain't no rumor! This is right from a councilman and they know everything' goin on at the front _and_ here!

"Shut it, Gil! I'll believe it when I see it for my own eyes!" he hollered back and the two men went inside the tavern. Legolas was glad when they did, as both their language and the rumors they had been discussing hurt his head.

He was still, his hands on several items of clothing at the cart as he thought recklessly about their comments. There was no doubt they were discussing Aragorn, but the rest of the rumor, who could they be speaking of? Certainly not _Erumar?_ They could _not_ be discussing the same woman, the same man. Erumar was going on such a trip to see Thranduil, and Aragorn would not, in a hundred million turnings of the world ever approach another woman who was not Arwen. He knew the man too well, had seen him with other women—he would _never_ …no, it was impossible! And who in the world did Erumar look like? Certainly not Arwen!

And what was with the 'out of wedlock' reference in the middle of their conversation? Aragorn had been faithful to Arwen since he was twenty years old. It was inconceivable! Could this have been what Arwen had been speaking of when she mentioned to Enguina that Aragorn had asked Dintîr to watch over her while he was away? Had he known that the Council would try to spread rumors _so_ foul? Why would the Council want to turn against Aragorn? The people loved and adored him! And what of Arwen? Spreading such rumors made absolutely no sense at all unless—

"May I help you, my Lord?"

There were not many things that could startle Legolas, but he had been so lost in his thoughts and confusion that he pulled back from the clothes' basket he had his hand on and it dumped directly onto the street.

"Oh my! I am so dreadfully sorry, my Lord!"

They bent down together, Legolas embarrassed. "Forgive me," he said, folding and setting the clothes back inside it. "This was my fault entirely. I was not paying attention at all."

"I did not mean to startle you," she said. "I did not even know it was possible to startle an elf!"

Her comment made him suddenly laugh. "You have proven that it does happen, my Lady. I do not know where I was, but…it was not here, in the present moment. Please, forgive me for making such a mess." They placed the last piece of clothing in the basket and he lifted it back up into the cart.

"Of course," she said. "Is there anything I _can_ help you with? I did not mean to bother you."

"No, no," he said, and he felt so guilty that he decided to purchase something to atone for his mess. "I would like two of these outfits I think. I was imagining our child in them, and I think my wife would like them."

Her face like the sun, she said, "My grandmother just finished them this morning! She will be thrilled to hear that the Elvish babe to be born will be clothed in them! Please, take the socks as well!"

Legolas laughed and took the sack from her as she took his coin. "Thank you, my Lady. Good day." He went on his way, and even though his mind was not as focused as it had been on the conversation as it had moments ago, he still wondered at its purpose.

He thought of something his father had told him when he was young: _My son, never overhear another's conversation, for you will always hear more than you wish. Either because you wish to repeat it but should not, or that you should repeat it but cannot._

Did he dare mention to Arwen that he had heard more rumors she feared they would be spreading? He knew for certain she did not know about this one! His sudden urge was to head to the Tower of Ecthelion, burn the council chambers to the ground, and cast every last one of them straight out through the gates. _Curse_ Dintîr for opening his mouth to Arwen about possible rumors! _Curse_ the fact that it may have actually been true! And curse _himself_ for hearing it in the first place!

Frustrated and disgusted that anyone he knew, even in acquaintance, would be involved in such disgraceful talk about people he cared about, he stormed towards the guest house to get back to the one person in the world who made sense to him.

* * *

Legolas was still storming when he made his way into the guesthouse. He tossed the sack onto the kitchen table and closed the door behind him, frustrated and angry. He took several deep breaths even though he knew there would be no change in his mood as there had not been since he had left the Market. He wanted to run… _a lot_. In fact, he should have chosen not to return yet, but now he was here and there was Enguina coming into the kitchen and he still had a scowl on his face.

 _Control, Legolas. Think quiet, calming thoughts of gentle rivers and…that you cannot yell in front of the baby._ He did not look at her, still trying to compose himself so he did not snap or raise his voice. He kept reminding himself to think of the baby, over and over.

"Legolas, is everything all right?" she asked, one of her hands resting on the baby. She could clearly tell that something was up. "You are angry."

"Yes," he said, "something at the market. You should leave it, though." He was trying to be honest, not to irritate her. "I cannot talk about it with civility at the moment."

She frowned. "Not something about Arwen again…"

" _Guin_ …" he warned her. He did not want to bark at her.

"Are you sure you do not want to—"

"No," he replied, his voice clipped. "I do not, and neither do you. I brought this from the market for the baby." She reached out as he extended the sack and peered inside.

"Oh, these are precious!" she exclaimed, and the hint of a smile began to appear on his lips. She looked them over and then looked into the bag, suddenly frowning.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Did you find the goat cheese?" she asked, lifting her eyes to his.

His shoulders fell; he immediately remembered that he had it in his hand at the stand and that must have been where it remained. He was so irritated with himself, he could not speak. He simply shook his head. She stared at him.

"No? Did you…how could you forget?"

He swallowed his irritation, but it was boiling just beneath the surface. "I did not forget."

"Then what happened? Were they out?" She looked miserable.

"No," he said, sighing with frustration, "I left it at the stand where I bought the clothes. I was distracted and I must have…dropped it."

" _Dropped_ it?" she asked, her voice full of disbelief. "But Legolas, that was why you _went_ to the Market!"

"I _know_ ," he growled, angry at his own incompetence. "I will have to go—"

"But I…was waiting so long already," she said softly.

"Well, you shall have to wait a little while longer," he snipped. "I left it behind."

There was a moment. "When are you going to go and get it?" He set his hands down hard on the table and it made her jump. He was so frustrated, he could hardly think at the moment.

"Is it necessary for me to go right now?" he growled, his eyes full of irritation. "If I have to, I will. I need another long walk."

She looked down suddenly, tears in her eyes. "I was…I really wanted…"

"Why are you crying?" he asked suddenly, staring at her, his surprise clear.

She wrung her hands once; she had not done that in _years_. "I…I do not _know_! I wanted that cheese, and you went out to get it, and now you are home and you do not have it because you forgot it—"

"I did _not_ forget it!"

"—and you are so _angry_ …and I…I have never seen you like this before…" She reached up to wipe away tears, surprised at emotions she was completely unable to control. " _I am so sorry for this scene…_ " She turned away suddenly and walked quickly from the room before he could reach out and catch her arm.

He gripped the end of the table with both hands and yanked a few times, rocking with his irritation. At least it was something physical he could do without breaking anything. He wanted to run after her, but he needed to calm down first. He counted to twenty, then he did it in Elvish, then he counted in Dwarvish. Finally, he felt a bit calmer, thinking about something other than the incident. In fact, he was not even sure why he was so angry. He could think of no _one_ individual to blame; without someone to discuss the situation with, was there any point to being furious? And how often must Aragorn and Arwen deal with rumors about themselves and their actions? What did it matter if they did not know about them?

And above all: did he have any right to take it out on the one person who mattered most to him when her emotions were running amok as it was? No…he had not that right.

He sighed gently and rolled his neck, straightening his shoulders. He turned and followed her footsteps down the hall to the bathroom where the door was closed. He stood for a second staring at it directly in front of his face. He gently tapped a knuckle upon the door.

"Guin?" he asked softly, his voice so different than it had been two minutes ago.

" _Go away_ ," her muffled voice came. He could hear her sniffing, and her voice was tight with tears.

"Please," he said, his voice still quiet, "let me come in and talk with you."

" _No._ "

""I am coming in," he said, ignoring her request. He lowered his hand to the doorknob and opened it; she was standing in the center of the room, her back to him, head in her hands.

"You were not supposed to come in here," she muttered.

"Then you should have locked the door," he said, half-teasing, half-serious. "I am…I am so sorry that I upset you." He was standing directly behind her now, and he rested his hands on her arms. "I _did_ buy the goat cheese; I went directly to the stand, but I was distracted by a conversation I should not have been listening to and…left it behind at the place where I purchased the clothes. I know you desired that cheese, and I truly am willing to go back out and get it. I am sorry you have waited so long already."

She turned into him, suddenly, and broke down against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, at a complete loss. "Shh," he said, stroking his hand in her hair, "I am sorry. I was so angry when I came home; I should have never…I should have never taken that out on you. That was so wrong of me; I hurt you, and I am terribly sorry." He let her go for a few more moments. " _Moina quen_ , why are you still crying?"

"I…I _really_ _wanted that cheese_ ," she whispered and he laughed softly.

"I promise, I will go and get it once more. I truly did not mean to forget it."

"I am sorry, too," she murmured, sniffing. "You were already angry and then I attacked you about the cheese, and…that was wrong…and then I became so distressed—"

"Everything is fine now," he told her. "I forgive you."

She reached up to wipe her hand on her face. "I forgive you, too. I…do not know what came over me. Being pregnant is no excuse. I do not know why I was reduced to tears…"

"Because I was angry," he said softly, and she looked hesitantly up into his face, "and that frightened you." There was relief in her eyes when she saw that his eyes appeared normal to her. "That was _my_ fault. I should have never come here angry." He lowered one hand to her abdomen and the other he reached up to help wipe the tears from her face. "And I am sorry that I broke my promise not to be angry before the baby, even when I was not angry with you."

"Why _were_ you so angry?"

"Rumors," he murmured. "More rumors, the damned Council. I would prefer not to repeat them or think of them, but I think I need to find out who is behind them before I confront anyone." He cleared his throat. "I _do_ intend to find out who is behind them, and what the meaning of all this is."

She was quiet for a moment. "Legolas, are you really going to go back out? I feel terrible."

He smiled, and tilted her chin up with his hand. "I really am, and you should not. I told you I would get it, and I will. I love you; I _am_ sorry that I made you cry." He pressed his lips to her nose.

"You did not make me cry," she said softly.

"I promised I would never do that."

"You cannot promise that," she replied, shaking her head. "It is impossible. Sometimes, I cry because I am so in love with you, not because I am upset…and that is good." He began to lean back and she drew him in for another kiss. "I love you," she whispered.

He was back out the door in another five minutes.

* * *

Erumar knocked another arrow from her quiver into her bow and fired into the oncoming sea of orcs over her barricade, hidden away by low-lying shrubbery. Tauriel, who stood beside her, fired two in rapid succession. When Erumar came back down to hide and prepare another, the red-head stood still, staring into the darkness and firing arrow after arrow. Erumar was so stunned by the warrior in her, her fearlessness, that she was simply in awe. She could never, _ever_ , be the soldier that Tauriel was; if Haldir could have seen her now, he would have been _furious_ at her for even handling the bow, never mind firing one. Erumar came up, fired another arrow, and just as she was coming back down an orc arrow struck the edge of the log before her, spraying wood chips into her eyes.

She gasped, dropping her bow and brushing her hands against her face to dislodge the chippings. Tauriel followed her down.

"What happened?"

Erumar's hands continued to cover her eyes. " _God_ , they _hurt_ ," she whispered, trying to cause her eyes to tear. Tauriel reached over and took her hands down.

"Let me see," she said. An arrow flew back over the barricade so close to her that her hair was blown by it. The wind was also really beginning to pick up, and thunder shook the plain. Lightning flashed as Tauriel leaned Erumar's head back against the log. "Open your eyes."

"It is difficult," she muttered, but she tried and cold water came pouring over and into them. She hissed, trying to keep them open as Tauriel continued the stream of water from her water skin, letting it rinse her eyes.

"Blink rapidly." Erumar did as she was told and then Tauriel had her open her eyes again and she flushed them once more. She let Erumar lower her head as she blinked. "Better?"

"A bit. At least I can see," she said, wiping the excess water from her face. Though why she did this she was not sure, as she was thoroughly soaked through.

"Good," Tauriel replied, "because we will shortly have to make a quick getaway and you must see to ride." She turned and called down the line as another arrow whizzed past her cheek. " _Fânrim!_ _Jeret!_ We _must_ go!"

Fânrim turned his head to look at her. "Not yet!"

"Yes!"

"Not yet, Captain! A few more minutes!"

"We're nearly outta arrows!" hollered Jeret, firing another. "We're not going to be able to hold here anyway; there's too many of them! Tauriel's right; we should go!"

Erumar raised her head, blinking through the blurry burning in her eyes and watched as the lightning flashed again, shining down on the army of orcs. These were not intelligent creatures, nor did they have good aim, but there were _many_ of them, and that was enough cause to get out of the way. To her, it was a sea of darkness numbering far more than a thousand, and she had no idea how many they had killed already. They were getting closer; to her eyes… _much_ too close.

"Fânrim, _now!_ " yelled Tauriel as she stood and fired several more arrows into the faces of their foes. They must have been only a hundred yards off, which was far too close, and placed them well-within range of the orc arrows. They were not _that_ terrible of shots. Several elves and Gondorians listened to her and bolted for their horses tied within the trees. Tauriel shoved Erumar ahead of her as she turned and ran as well, firing an arrow or two as she went.

"Will you be all right to ride?" she asked as Erumar hauled herself onto Rûnving. She nodded, and stared back at their friends.

"What of Fânrim?"

" _Ride_ ," she said. "I will get the fool." She lifted her voice above the roaring rain and wind. "Ride for the second barrier! _Ride now!"_ Then Tauriel turned back and returned to the barricade, firing arrows as she went. This was the last view Erumar had of her before Rûnving's impatience made her gallop after the rest of their soldiers, fleeing any close quarter combat.


	35. Chapter 35

Author's Note: This chapter has an excerpt from Psalm 22; I did not write, nor do I own the Bible! LOL And, I grin and giggle like a child when Legolas gets fired up and pissed off at people! Enjoy!

* * *

Arwen walked out onto the back porch of the King's House, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, hair tangled and wild, hands shaking. He was in battle; she could feel it when she had reached for him. The heat of battle was all around him, and she was worried, _so worried_ …worried that what she had seen the other evening was not a dream but a vision, and it _plagued_ her. And not only that, but the dreams she was still having; though she had not had the one of Aragorn again, she was still dreaming of the baby…and the dark-haired woman who still had no face.

She lifted her face to the heavens, tears on it as she looked up into the evening sky. Her worry for Aragorn was not the only thing on her heart tonight; she could barely sleep with thoughts of the child. She had been to see Gwae earlier today, and a weight had settled on her heart. It was not only the babe; Gwae was a gossip, so people came to her with rumors. There was a rumor that had reached her that she was worried of, something about Aragorn and the possibility of an heir. Arwen rejected anything she said, finally having to become quite firm with her old friend to bring the conversation to an end. This troubled her; what rumors had been spreading about Aragorn? What slander would they say against _him_ now? Did this not need to end? She needed to speak with Dintîr and with Noldore about what was happening within the City…and what sort of rumors were being spread around.

Her hands wrapped around her empty womb, and she thought of Enguina at breakfast this morning, teasing Legolas as he leaned down to kiss the baby. She thought of how badly she wanted that for herself and Aragorn. She thought of the pressure she felt to bear him a son, even though he had told her that was not his aim. He wanted to be with her, for no other reason than for her to be his wife, his love…and she believed him. It would be enough…but the people and their talk continued to weigh on her. She sighed, low and long.

" _Ilúvatar…Ilúvatar, please…_ " she whispered brokenly. And then she raised her voice in a chant-like prayer, speaking in her native tongue as she stared into the night.

 _Ilúvatar, have you forsaken me?_

 _Why are you so far from saving me,_

 _So far from my cries of anguish?_

 _Ilúvatar, I cry out by day but you do not answer,_

 _By night, I find no rest_

 _Do not be far from me…for trouble is near_

 _And there is no one to help me._

 _Roaring lions and serpents come at me,_

 _Open their mouths wide against me._

 _I am poured out like water,_

 _My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me._

 _Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircle me._

 _But you, Ilúvatar, do not be far from me._

 _You are my strength, come quickly to help me._

 _You will not hide your face from me,_

 _But will listen to my cry for help._

She stood and was silent for some time, looking up at the stars, laying a hand upon her heart.

"How long, Father? How long will you let my cries go unanswered?" she whispered in that same, heart-broken voice. "I know you are there; I know you see me, yet you do not answer. Take this pain from me!

"And there has been no word from my beloved. Yet I _know_ he is in danger, tonight I feel him in the midst of battle. I would think he is well, but for this terrible weight in my heart. I try to give this burden to you, Father, but I cannot relinquish it. I fear something terrible is about to happen; my heart yearns for your peace, and it yearns for _him_ ," her voice broke and she was silent for a moment. "We have been parted before, and never have I felt so alone and…full of fear." Yes, she recognized it; she was _afraid._ "Take this terrible fear from me, Father! Please take care of him and bring him home to me. Help me rest in the knowledge that _you_ are with him, that _you_ are keeping him safe, that _you_ are his shield. Help him feel my love, even from this distance." She fell silent after that, leaning forward against the railing of the porch and bowing her head, falling into prayer in her mind for him instead of aloud.

* * *

Unknown to her, Nardur stood just on the other side of the wall, and from his position, could hear everything she spoke. He had been drawn here by her quiet words spoken into the night, as he had been simply walking past the King's House. Leaning with his back against the wall, he had listened until she had fallen silent, and now he quietly walked away, thinking of his plans.

He had planted so many seeds within the Council; the letter from Hildanir had been one…there would be another tomorrow. Hearing the Queen, he knew that in some way, Elessar was possibly involved in a skirmish—how she could know that, he was not sure, but he was willing to use it to make another letter sound more believable. And on another note, he had completed something that he had in the works since Elessar's departure; that meant it could be included in the letter, and could be used to convince others that things were changing.

He knew that Dintîr had at some point, opened his mouth. He could almost guarantee that he would be attacked verbally soon. He would be ready, and he would unleash a torrent of information on the Queen so undeniable and undisputable that she would be unable to see anything but the truth. He had no idea what the success of Ethring was or how that was playing out, but he knew that he still needed to act. Perhaps…if he got Arwen to believe him, to accept the truth that Elessar truly _did_ need to have a mistress, she could…

He shook his head at his own thoughts as he walked towards the sixth level. No…no, it was too unlikely. He had not wanted to tell Ethring the truth when the man had spoken to him; Ethring truly believed that Erumar would carry Elessar's illegitimate child and then that child would be raised by Arwen. That however…was probably impossible. The truth of the matter was more likely that Erumar would bear Aragorn that child, and then have to become the new Queen of the Reunited Kingdom. Nardur did not trust that Arwen would take it well, and he did not trust that Ethring, no matter how much faith he had, would succeed. Therefore…he might need to take matters into his own hands. He was attempting to wait that out, but he had already waited so long for a message from Ethring and it had not come. Was the man having success? What was happening out there? There had been no word; only what he had conceived in his mind.

He did know, that whenever he _would_ be confronted by the Queen—perhaps in another day or so—she had so many things weighing on her it would be fairly easy to convince her of her husband's betrayal and the why of it. The why would be the easiest thing for her to believe, but he did need to tread carefully. He did not wish to end up in the stocks like the others. No, he was too smart for that, and he had no intention of failing. Gondor needed an heir, and come scheming or murder or even _hell_ , he would damn his own soul before he would allow anything but that heir to be accomplished.

 _For the glory of Gondor preserved._

* * *

Aragorn was crouched behind a make-shift barricade, the wind whipping up dirt and grass into tumbleweeds on the plain. After two rounds of arrows, the orcs were lessening, but the numbers that were coming toward Aragorn and his soldiers were far greater than even he had anticipated. Elves on horseback were making their way toward them, the orcs about a league behind. Even though the sun had risen, it was behind dense, dark, furious-looking clouds. The rain had suddenly come to an end above them, and Aragorn saw that as terribly ominous.

He stood up, knowing that the orcs would not be able to see him this far away, but the horses running toward him would. His eyes were good, so he could count twenty-three bowmen headed towards him; that was a relief—they had not lost many men even with the rabble stretching out before them.

"Turin's beard," exclaimed Mennev, "look at 'em! How can we fight so many, Elessar?"

"This will be suicide for our people," snapped Luglog, shaking his head. "Ghashbûr—"

"Several of our comrades are injured," Aragorn said. "We need to take care of these men before we fight." He turned to Mennev and clasped his shoulder. "It is not with our strength, Mennev. Remember that."

The Captain nodded his head once and then yelled, "Lower your weapons! Our soldiers come ahead of the—"

"What the _hell_ is _that_?" shouted Hildanir, pointing.

Everyone looked out, their eyes no longer on the elves hurtling towards them but on the clouds above the orcs, swirling within the darkness. Aragorn had only seen such clouds once in his life. He reached out and grabbed Ghashbûr's arm.

"Tell your men to prepare to retreat on your command," he said urgently, his eyes darting back to the spiraling clouds. Mennev looked over at him incredulously.

"What the hell's going on?"

"What is it?" Ghashbûr asked, staring at the clouds himself.

Suddenly, a spiral came down out of them, a sound like a thousand winds whistling through glass and wooden boards coming over them. Every man instinctively ducked, even though it was nowhere near them, but the spiral kept coming until it touched the earth and a cloud formed beneath it. Even without Elvish eyes, every one of them could see the black bodies of orcs being thrown like grass seed in the wind. Several of the Easterlings were yelling and shouting, and so were the Gondorians, pointing and gripping one another's arms.

Aragorn stared as the orcs were thrown left and right, whipped upwards into the spiral and flung out, some of them landing on the heels of the running horses. The elves, Gondorians, and their mounts hurtled over the barricades, their horses easily making the jump as several of them were bolting from the tumultuous wind.

"Elessar, what _is_ that?!" cried Luglog, he and every other man ducking down in fear.

Aragorn pointed. "That is the finger of Ilúvatar," he answered. There was no doubt in his mind as the swirling cloud was sucked back up into the heavens and another came down several seconds later several hundred meters back from the other, still swatting orcs like flies. "We call them funnel clouds, and they are rarely seen. This is only the second time I have ever witnessed such an event."

"Ilúvatar protects us!" cried Hildanir, raising his sword. "Ilúvatar decimates the orcs for us!"

"Praise him!" hollered Mennev, and the Gondorians took up the call.

"I do not know this god," Ghashbûr said to Aragorn, staring at the cloud, "but he answers you when you call, Elessar."

"You have now seen his mighty deeds," Aragorn replied, and then looked at the sky above them. "Keep a watch that those clouds do not come this way, Ghashbûr. I need to speak to Tauriel and Fânrim. Hildanir, have men take shifts watching the orcs. The first sign of movement our direction after they regroup, sound the alert."

He turned away, men all around staring at the clouds and the orcs, not even bothering to conceal themselves behind the barricade. Most of the riders had dismounted and several Gondorian foot soldiers were helping them hang on to their exhausted and terrified mounts. Jeret stood near Fânrim's white horse; the elf had an arrow sticking out of his thigh and he was helping him to remove it.

"Fânrim! How went the first stages of battle? Are you all right?"

The elf winced as Jeret removed the arrow. He looked wet and miserable…and ashamed. "I was foolish, and I did not listen to my Captain. Two of our men were killed, and many are wounded. As a result, I have relieved myself of command."

"What happened?" Aragorn asked immediately, glancing at the other soldiers and elves around him, staring into their familiar faces. Some were exhilarated; some were completely terrified.

"Tauriel ordered me to hurry, but I did not listen," he said shamefully. "I wanted to fight as many of them as I could. I did not think of our safety."

"Where is Tauriel, Fânrim?"

"She was hit by several arrows, I think. She was riding on the right of me; she saved my life. I was unworthy of the rescue."

"Enough reproach," he responded sternly. "There shall be time to reprimand for orders unfollowed later. We shall still have a battle to fight when the orcs reach us." He turned to Jeret. "Get him down and clean that wound. Continue to see to our men. It is clear that you did good work in the night."

"The battlefield was littered with their corpses, my Lord," Jeret said proudly. "Our men didn't run in the face of insurmountable odds. We kept shooting, and the barricades worked as well as you thought they would."

"I am glad to hear it," he replied, clapping the man's shoulder. "See to him." He turned and walked around Fânrim's horse, looking for Tauriel… _and Erumar_. After clasping several hands and arms and making his way through nearly a dozen soldiers, including stopping to help one with an arrow and to direct an Easterling in some battlefield wound dressing, he came to Erumar.

 _Thank you, Ilúvatar!_ As he was about to say her name, he noticed Tauriel as well, who could not appear to dismount either, two arrows on her left in calf and arm, one in her right shoulder blade, and two slices by arrows that had just missed—one along her left cheek and the other on the left side of her throat. There was blood down the front of her tunic, and all of the shafts on the arrows were shortened; Tauriel had purposely not removed them until now. A battlefield choice—she had more fighting to do before they could have dressed them. _Thank you, Ilúvatar, for keeping them relatively safe. This might have been much worse._

"Tauriel, you look terrible," Aragorn said, reaching Erumar's side. Erumar, who was on the ground already, turned to look at him; tears were streaming from her eyes. "Erumar, what—"

"I am all right! I have something in my eyes and can barely see. Ignore it for now." Her eyes were red instead of white, but Erumar had told him to leave it and he looked up into Tauriel's face. She had pulled the arrow from her own arm and calf. She hopped down from the back of her buckskin and landed with all of her weight on her good leg.

"It could have been worse," she said grimly, holding her hand against her throat with a hiss. "I could be in the midst of that…cloud mass." Her eyes were wide. "I have never seen such a thing, in all my years!"

"Nor I," added Erumar. "Ilúvatar be praised for such a thing destroying so many of them."

"It should take them some time to regroup," noted Aragorn. "This will be good for all of you to recover and heal." He nodded to Tauriel. "Your wounds do not seem too deep. It is my great relief to see both of you." He reached up and the elf nodded as he carefully, but firmly, tugged the other arrow from the wound in her shoulder. He immediately applied pressure to the puncture with a cloth.

"Ah," she muttered ruefully, "that might leave a mark."

"A scar with a story."

"Fânrim should have listened," Erumar said softly.

"In the heat of the moment," Tauriel said, sighing, "he was focused on only one thing. It happens to the best of us. He thought he knew best, but he nearly got himself and many others killed retreating from the first barricades. "

"He said he relieved himself of command."

"I will discuss it with him later. Where are the orcs?"

Erumar turned and looked. "Where the twisting cloud left them. They have not regrouped."

"It may be some time before they do." He looked back to Tauriel. "You must be tired; you lost enough blood to drop a deer."

"That arrow has been there for several hours," Erumar said pointedly, and Aragorn helped Tauriel sit down before she fell down.

"Perhaps I _should_ sit down, just for a moment," she admitted.

"How very wise of you," Aragorn laughed softly, "but I think lying down would be best." One of the Gondorians took her horse and Erumar's to tie them a short distance away, so when Aragorn applied some pressure to her shoulder, she laid down easily on her right side. "Close your eyes, rest…" he said. "Let me bind these."

She did close her eyes. "I have no intention of sleeping, Aragorn, but I will rest. I will be needed soon, and I will not be unaware during battle."

He smiled. "Of course." Battlefield dressings were adequate for the two lower wounds, but the one in her shoulder needed a bit more than just a simple patch. When that was finished, he turned to look at Erumar; lifting an eyebrow. "And what happened to you, veteran soldier?"

She smiled, still blinking her red eyes rapidly. "Splinters from the log; they snapped into my eyes and I cannot seem to clear them. Tauriel poured water in them, and they were all right for a little while and now they are awful again. I can hardly keep them open."

"Let me see," he said, and he flushed them as well, even going so far as to fill her hand with water and have her blink her eyes several times under water instead of simply pouring it. They became even clearer, but now they were simply irritated, the whites of her eyes an angry red. "I think this will be all right," he added, "but do not rub them, or you may seriously damage your eyes."

"I will not rub," she promised. She nodded to Tauriel's back. "I have never seen a woman fight as she does. I used to watch Arwen train, and Enguina practice with her bow…but I have _never_ seen anyone who wields blades as she does." Aragorn could see the awe in her eyes. "She is _terrifying,_ Aragorn. Impressive, unbelievable…but terrifying. And war is just as terrifying," she added. "If I never need to use this bow again—"

"You do not have to," he said. "You could easily stay with the horses, Erumar. This knife-work you need not be part of." She looked into his eyes and nodded.

"I know, but if I were to hold back and someone died, I would think that perhaps that could have been the one orc I shot with my bow; I would feel responsible. I could save someone's life; I may mean the difference between life and death for someone. That is an important duty, and I have lived and traveled with these men for a month. Your men are my men," she added softly.

"Yes," he replied, nodding. "It is a great responsibility, to take a life." She nodded.

"I would prefer to never do it again," she told him softly.

"I hope you never have to." He reached over and touched her hand. "I am going to see to the rest of the bowmen who returned. Stay here with Tauriel and take some rest. Prepare yourself for what is coming."

Her eyes caught the sky as he got to his feet. "Do you think this storm will circle back? Do you think we shall see the twister again?"

"I think this storm had one purpose alone: our defense. I think the rain shall return, but the funnel cloud? No, I think we have seen the last of it."

* * *

Enguina giggled as she tilted her head back, Legolas pouring water over her hair, rinsing the soap away. She was wet, which she normally could never find a reason to like, but anything that got her in the bath with Legolas was worth sacrificing for. Her back was to him, his hand in her hair as he gently sifted his fingers through it when he poured water over it again to comb out the snarls and rub the soap out. She _loved_ his fingers in her hair; she _loved_ the way his hands came back over her shoulders and moved down her back as they were doing now, making her feel so loved, so wanted. He had been determined to do something to please her after being angry, even though they had forgiven one another. This bath had been the perfect morning gift.

"I love being in the bath with you," she said, leaning her head back and rolling it around as he reached around her to her belly. It was only his hands now; he had no excuse to say it was because he was washing her. He was touching to touch now.

"I could not tell," he replied teasingly. "I had no idea how much you enjoyed the feel of my hands." And she _did_ enjoy it. He loved on her so often with his words, but this was so physical. It was a joy to be with him. Reaching back, she dragged her hands from his knees to his ankles, relishing in the feel of his smooth skin beneath her hands. She had already washed him, of course; he had saved her for last. She closed her eyes.

"I never thought I would desire to spend time in water with anyone," she said. "But being in the bath with you is one of the most wonderful treasures of my life. I love it…here, at home…at the river…"

"I love it, too," he said, thinking of the first time after their wedding that he had made her feel clean, their first time in the bath together. "I love that I can help you feel clean; I love that it gives me an excuse to run my hands all over you." And his hands _were_ running all over her at the moment: her womb, her thighs, her breasts, between her legs, her back…she simply enjoyed the feel of him.

"As if you need an excuse…" she murmured. "I am your wife; I would welcome you touching me whenever you want." She took her hand from his leg as she felt him lean forward to kiss the back and side of her neck and she reached up to cup the back of his head, tilting hers to the side so that their lips would meet.

"I am _so_ glad to hear that," he laughed in her ear. "What _every_ man wants to hear…that whenever I want, I can rub my hands along your warm, smooth skin…" He came upwards to her breasts and she shifted in his arms, squirming with her own arousal. She could not deny it though, she had been aroused since bath time had begun.

It only took a moment before she was turning about to face him. She leaned forward towards him, drawing her fingers beneath his chin to bring his mouth to hers. He gave to her kiss, and she was trailing a hand along his right ankle towards his raised knee as she began pressing him back, coming over to his side of the tub.

A flattened palm touched the center of her chest and held her back. "Whoa…" he murmured, "that is crossing the line…"

"What?" she asked, opening her eyes to meet his.

"I do not think it is a good idea," he whispered, shaking his head, "coming over to my side of the bath. That could…it could be a problem."

" _Oh,_ I _hope_ so," she said, her hand already traveling somewhere in the region of his thigh. Her other reached up and bumped the hand on her chest up and onto her shoulder as she blew past his 'imaginary line,' pulling herself slowly into him, the skin of her body rubbing against his left leg that was also drawn up as he leaned back. She followed him. "I intend to make the most of it."

She lowered her mouth and forced her lips beneath his chin, not applying too much pressure, but enough to push him back into the side of the tub, and he lay his head back over it, letting her lips do all the work. His hands followed her shoulders now on both sides, and hers came up his body from his hips, dragging along his stomach and ribs to his chest where they stayed, her thumbs rubbing against his breast. He let his breath out slowly as her lips and tongue made their way around his neck, following his major vein and then making their way towards his ear. His hands came down her back and across to her hips, coming around to rub her belly gently as she moved even closer to him.

Eventually, though it took a little maneuvering, she was able to finally get herself, with his help, into his lap, whatever part of her pressed against him that she could being only a few days before her eighth month. Legolas groaned into her mouth as she arched her back, pressing into him and pushing him gently back against the side of the tub again. She was purposeful about being slow and torturous.

"I love this," he whispered. "I love you in the water…"

She lowered her mouth to drop feverish kisses along his jaw, her knees holding his hips and thighs tightly. "I always think I look like a drowning animal."

" _God,_ no…you are so, so beautiful," he stated, his eyes full of his love for her though she was focused on kissing his skin at the moment, his hands holding her hips as she moved against him. He just lost himself in her, feeling one of her hands wrapping in his hair, the other bracing herself on his shoulder. She brought her mouth back to his.

"I may need another bath after this," she murmured breathlessly, and he laughed.

"I will be _out_ of the tub for that one…"

* * *

Due to her inability to sleep that morning and their romping in the bath, Enguina and Legolas were headed to the King's House early. They figured Arwen would not mind, of course, but they decided to take a brief detour to walk through the garden and look at the flowers. They passed the King's House to do this, but again, they had no particular time that they needed to be anywhere. Instead, as it had been some time since they had walked in the garden, they thought they would check on the mallorn's growth and the morning glories so that Enguina could think of Erumar. This thought made Legolas smile.

She slipped her hand into his as they walked; several guards had already wished them a good morning, and they could hardly keep the smiles off their faces. They were quiet, re-centered, calm; Enguina loved it when all felt right with the world and with Legolas. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, and she smiled.

"I love spending time with you," she told him softly. "I love seeing you in the sunlight, a smile on your face, a bounce in your step—"

" _You_ put it there," he admitted. "Without you, I am merely Legolas. With you, I am more than I ever was."

She blushed. "I do not believe you were ever _only_ Legolas. You were always special… _always_. At least, according to your father you were."

"My father would say that," he replied, shaking his head. "But he is wrong; you have helped me become the man I have always wanted to be, and I—" He turned his head slightly, listening to something that Enguina was clearly not hearing.

"What is it?" she asked, and he shook his head, still listening. She turned hers as well, putting her ear in the same direction as him. She could faintly hear a conversation going on; even with her fine hearing, she could only decipher a few words here and there. However, a few words did stand out to her, making it possible for her to know _exactly_ what they were talking about.

 _She-elf. Journey. Queen. Barren. Elessar. Lórien. Whore._

That was enough; things may have gone differently if that word had not entered whatever conversation those two men had been having, but Legolas was having absolutely none of that. Enguina watched Legolas's hands ball into his fists. She reached out to touch his arm and he stepped back from her, his eyes narrowing with anger.

"Guin, I would like you to go to the King's House, please."

She stared at him, surprised by his outright request; immediately, all thought of the morning's peacefulness was gone. She could see, all across his shoulders, every muscle was tight and taut, and there was restrained fury in his tone. His eyes had become as icy as they had been yesterday when he had arrived home; she released him.

"Legolas…"

"Guin," he said again, his voice clipped, "you need to go now. I am going to find out what is going on here. Please." There was no teasing in his face; she knew he was completely serious.

"Legolas," she said softly, and she continued quickly when it looked like he was about to interrupt her, " _please_ be careful. Do not say anything that you do not mean. Do not—"

"Enough caution please," he told her, and he bent toward her and roughly pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Go now, and let me handle this."

She turned and went, obeying him, and Legolas immediately rounded the hedgerow to confront the two men who were speaking in a pair as though no one could hear them. He knew the names of both men, though he did not know them personally. Of course, they were councilmen, and Legolas felt his heart rate increase a thousand percent. He was so _tired_ of these men and all their pompousness! He was done with _all_ of them.

Of course, they did not even notice him at first.

"I _still_ cannot imagine it," Thidarn said. He was younger, but more tempered in his thinking, whereas his fellow man, Sair, was the more burly and brawling of the two. Sair was a life-of-the-party type, but Thidarn was generally more reasonable. "The King has _always_ indicated that he had no intention of ever taking a mistress of any kind. I mean, remember the brawl that Prince Faramir had with Vändir? Come on, Sair; _you_ remember it because you were going to get in on it!"

He laughed. "Well, Vändir was a bit of an idiot, if ya ask me," he replied. "Still, it was quite clear in the letter what's going to go on. I still think it's a great idea; it'll ensure an heir. She's every bit as pretty as the Queen, anyway. No one'd even know the difference."

"I know women would line up to get in bed with him," Thidarn said, "but don't you think…I mean, it's out of _wedlock_ for goodness sake."

"Aw c'mon, Thid," he said, "the man's the King. He c'n do whatever the hell he wants and get away with it; it's not a crime, ya know. Plus, maybe the elf's a hoo're like all the rest of—"

Legolas had Sair by the throat up against the side of Haldir's statue faster than he could blink or finish the sentence. Thidarn reached over, trying to grab the elf's arm, but he was a small man and Legolas was tall, angry, and prepared. He shoved the man back with his elbow and glared at Sair.

"What were you saying?" he snapped. " _Who_ were you calling whores?"

"Let me go, you Elvish—"

"Not a good idea, Sair!" interrupted Thidarn waving his hands at the man to shut it. "Prince Legolas, please, we meant no disrespect!"

"Perhaps _you_ did not, Thidarn," he said angrily. "Slandering the King and Queen is an offense I will _not_ take lightly, and neither is slandering my _people_ , Sair. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Why are you—"

"We weren't," Sair said, trying to break Legolas's hold. "Let me go, elf, before I've gotta hit you!" Legolas dived in even closer to him, eyes blazing.

"I _dare_ you to attempt to hit me, Sair. Watch how fast I lay you out." He dropped the man and stepped back. "Watch your filthy mouth and who you open it around." The councilman was rubbing his neck and glaring at him, but Legolas continued. "This is the second time in two days I have heard such rubbish, and I _will_ put a stop to it. From where do these rumors come? The men I heard yesterday have family on the council, so it must begin with all of you."

"No," Thidarn interrupted, shaking his head. "I was discussing it because I can't believe it's true. There's no way that Elessar would—"

"That is right. No way at all," Legolas responded. "So…why spread rumors?"

"Talk to Nardur," Sair said, pointing towards the Embrasure as he stepped away from Legolas. "He'd know the most about it. Though I can't imagine how you've heard anything around the City; we're all told to keep our mouths shut about it."

"If you, Sair, are out here talking in a garden and I overheard you, how much more do you think the other eleven men of the council are going to be talking in the same way? Keep your mouths closed and stop the rumors _now_."

Legolas turned and walked directly toward the Embrasure where, as he came around the corner, he could see Nardur standing. He was not the type to waste time or to mince words; Nardur had never done anything in particular to _him_ , but it was clear that Nardur had in the past been one of the most outspoken on the Council. Legolas was determined that this needed to end. Nardur was closing the gap towards the end of the long, thin area when Legolas called out to him.

"Nardur!" he said, barely controlling the tempest now raging in his chest.

The man turned, clearly surprised and unable to get a neutral expression across his face quickly enough. It was clear that Legolas, who towered over him, intimidated him for half-a-moment; Nadur was not going to allow that to show on his face for long, but it flashed quickly through his mind—especially considering the elf was angry and he was standing on the highest cliff Minas Tirith had to offer.

"Prince Legolas," he acknowledged, tilting his head. "Good morning."

"It would have been," Legolas stated firmly, "if I had not been walking in the garden listening to nonsense rumors being spread around by council members throughout Minas Tirith." He narrowed his eyes as Nardur raised his.

"Rumors? Why would anyone be spreading rumors?"

"I assume they originated within the Council, of course," he said. "I was told I should see you if I want to know more about them."

"Me?" he asked incredulously. "And what are these rumors about, precisely?"

"The King having an affair with a certain elf-lady from Lórien," he said. "I have heard the rumors twice now, along with numerous foul comments about the Queen. I will not stand for them. They will end here and now."

"Prince Legolas, I am afraid I have no idea what rumors you are referring to. I have heard no such rumors."

"You, I think, are the only man clever enough on the Council to begin rumors and make it appear as though they did not originate with you," he said nastily. "You _have_ in the past said several foul things about the Queen—"

"I will not admit to them being foul," he said, his tone growing waspish. "They were true."

"The Queen of Gondor is _not_ barren. That is a lie! It is a falsehood that has been circulated—"

"By myself?" Nardur said calmly, raising his eyebrows. "I mentioned the Queen being barren to two people…the King and the Queen herself. I have circulated no rumor at all. And it is _not_ a falsehood, contrary to your opinion. In fact, it is true; go and speak with Talf in the Houses of Healing. They can explain—"

"There needs to be no explaining. The Queen is an elf," Legolas snapped, losing patience. "Elves are not mortals, and take longer to conceive then—"

"First, the Queen is not immortal. And second, they do?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You and the Lady Enguina are having a child yourselves and you have not been married four years yet. Quite a miracle then, would you not say?"

Legolas glared at him. "It is indeed a miracle. Do not _mock_ Ilúvatar, or he shall strike you down." He took a step closer to Nardur, and to his credit, the man did not back down. "Whatever these rumors are, I demand they end. If it must begin with you, within the Council chamber today, then so be it. Make them end."

Nardur spread his hands. "I have nothing to do with any rumors, or what people choose to say when they meet in a public place. You cannot tell people to stop talking about the truth."

"King Elessar would never betray his Queen," Legolas stated firmly. "Never."

"Perhaps you do not know him as well as you think you do. Or perhaps, he has to do what is necessary to prolong the peace of the Reunited Kingdom." He shrugged. "Some things are more important than love. The lives of a thousand are more important than one."

Legolas's hands curled into fists. "Do not threaten the life of the Evenstar," he said, his voice low. "If you make any move to harm one hair on her head, I swear to you that I will personally—"

Nardur laughed, holding up a hand as he noticed several guards walking nearby. "Now, now, Prince Legolas, I do not think you want to make a threat such as _that_ into the morning air, do you?"

Legolas's eyes both narrowed and darkened. "Yes, I most certainly do. How _dare_ you—"

Nardur stepped forward, meeting the elf's eyes, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Some things _are_ more important than _lives_ , Prince. You clearly have never had to make a decision that weighed the many over the few, but others have to make those decisions daily, including your father and the King. I would think about what sort of threats you make against me and what you intend to accuse me of. I am _not_ a person you want as your enemy."

Legolas glared at him, a sneer on his face. "You do not frighten me. If you threaten the throne of Gondor, or harm the Queen in any way while her husband is away, I will come after you myself." The threat hung in the air between them.

Nardur leaned toward him and suddenly gave him a wicked smile. "Even after I warn you," he said, his voice low so only Legolas could hear him, "still you threaten me? Do you not have a wife that is soon to bear you a babe?"

Legolas grabbed the front of Nardur's tunic and hefted him right off his feet, dropping him on his back against the top of the stone wall, hanging his head over the edge, a few stones all that stood between him and a thousand foot drop onto the Pelennor. Nardur's heart was in his throat, his eyes unable to do anything but stare downwards at level upon level of stones and streets.

"You honestly think I would let you threaten Enguina?" Legolas snarled, eyes like ice picks. " _My_ _unborn_ _child_?! I will kill you right here!"

There were metallic steps on the stone behind them. Two guards appeared behind Legolas's shoulder. They had heard none of the conversation, only the end result.

"My Lords!" called Lifas, startled at the expression of pure fury on Legolas's face.

"Please, Prince!" said the other guard. "Put the councilman down!"

Legolas yanked Nardur back over the wall and set him on his feet, furious at himself for doing so. Nardur straightened his tunic as Legolas glared at him, ready to tear out the man's throat. "Be grateful," he said clearly, "that these men came along to rescue you."

"What has happened?" Lifas asked worriedly. "Are you all right, Prince Legolas?"

"Are _you_ all right, councilman?" asked the other.

Nardur nodded. "The Prince and I were having a…disagreement. Do not worry, guardsmen. Return to your posts."

The two men hesitated, Lifas looking to Legolas, who nodded once. The two men began to walk away. As Legolas's eyes followed them, Nardur leaned towards the elf. "Watch yourself, Prince."

Legolas turned back to him, his hands _itching_ for the councilman's throat. He refrained. Instead, he towered over him, blocking out the sunlight. "If you ever threaten my family again," he said, his voice low and angry, "you will regret it forever. I swear I will—"

"Never give me a reason to threaten that precious family of yours," Nardur hissed back. "I have bigger worries than you; stay out of issues you cannot possibly comprehend. Now, get out of my way."

Nardur stepped around him easily and headed for the Tower of Ecthelion. Legolas stayed exactly where he was, his shoulders hunched, every muscle tense with rage. Putting that rage into action, he stormed down to the end of the Embrasure and planted his hands on it, looking out for a million leagues. He was so angry that there was nothing he could do about this, that nothing he could say was going to stop it…and that Aragorn was not here to put the Council in their place. Had the man known when he left that he would face this scrutiny? Had he known what they were saying about Arwen? Oh, of course he knew about the latter; he had known it for years. He braced himself against the stone, unwilling to turn back to the King's House with such anger festering within. He would go…when he had calmed down enough to plant a neutral expression upon his own face. He did not want to concern Arwen with it; did she not have enough to handle?


	36. Chapter 36

Author's Note: The song in this chapter is "Shoulders" by For King and Country. I did not write it, nor do I own it, but I did edit a few words and a few lines to make it work better for what I wanted. :O) Enjoy the chapter and sorry it's late!

* * *

The third wave of orcs hit the ground ten meters before the third barricade and Aragorn leapt over it, Andúril flashing as a flame as he rushed forward and slashed the first two orcs across their throats at once. Hildanir and Mennev were on his left and right, just behind him, and Gondorians, Easterlings, and Elves came roaring over the barricades as well, swords and scythes slashing and slicing.

This was bloodshed at its most violent.

Bowmen stood back and let their arrows fly over the heads of their comrades, Fânrim and Jeret howling orders, orcs back in the multitude dropping like ripe fruit. They had no idea how many orcs were left to be faced as they had not time to count them. No amount of small injuries would stand in the way of their assault. Luglog took out four orcs as he spun in a circle, cutting off three of the orcs heads at once and catching the last taller one in the chest hard enough to chop him nearly in half and hit the orc behind him with the blade. Hildanir and Mennev moved as one unit behind Aragorn, slashing and bashing on either side of the King, taking out numerous orcs left and right. If one happened to stay standing, Ethring and his fellow men were there to take them as well, the two lines pressing against each other and beginning to mix.

Tauriel lunged forward despite her injuries, slicing into two orcs and bringing her dagger down into the shoulder of a third, spinning out of the way of his sword and kicking him violently backwards into his comrades, knocking three or four of them to the ground. She drove the blades down into two of them and then leapt over the others deeper into the fray where another larger orc tried to behead her. She ducked backwards at the waist, letting the sword pass over her and stabbed him rapidly three times in the gut, chest, and throat before he even had time to swing back. He was down; she kept moving forward.

Aragorn hacked away at an orc and then suddenly spun out of the way of a warg leaping through the others. The warg went straight for Hildanir and Aragorn brought all the weight of Andúril down to bear across the warg's head, forcing it to stumble to a halt as half its face was missing. He swung the blade back up and took out the rider's head as its beast fell. Hildanir had not even noticed; he simply kept swinging on the line he was on, continuing forward and taking out orc after orc, much as Mennev was doing on the opposite side of him.

There would be too many small courageous acts to count all of them that day, too many moments when the quick thinking of one saved the life of another.

Ghashbûr collected a few of his men for a small charge, the pouring rain pinging from their armor as their swords hewed through flesh and bone, driving the orcs to the ground or back to regroup. Ghashbûr knocked one down with sheer strength, stabbing him through on the ground. Another warg was nearby, tearing at two of his people as they attempted to kill it with their spears. He flung himself into the mud and rolled beneath it, lancing his sword up and into its belly repeatedly. As it reared back, the woman stabbed her blade through its throat and out the top of its head. When it fell down dead, Ghashbûr rolled out from beneath it and threw his arm in the air. His men followed suit, letting out bloodcurdling whoops and hollers before turning back to the fray. They would have their revenge.

They did not intend to leave one orc to contend with anyone else. If they were to wipe out every last one, the world would be a more peaceful place; there was no doubt in their minds about that. Every single one of the black-hearted, evil beasts were going to die today; they would see to it.

* * *

Noldore sat at the table, a mug of hot coffee before him provided by Dintîr's wife; both of the ladies knew that their husbands had a rough day of it, neither one willing to speak on what had happened or what had developed at the council meeting. He and Dintîr sat across from one another in silence, dinner long finished, their wives retired to the sitting room to leave them be for the moment. They needed it, as both of them were scrambling to think of what to do.

Dintîr sighed. "Noldore…"

"I know."

Dintîr frowned deeply, looking into the older man's face, each line showing every one of his sixty-nine years even though he would not meet his eyes. "I never thought we would be _here_. In _this_ situation."

"I know."

"I thought," he said, uncomprehending, "that we would be attacking Nardur. I thought that we would be leaping down his throat, telling him where to _stuff it_ , not, for heaven's sake, agreeing with him!"

"We…are not agreeing with him. He is _glad_ , like Sair, that this is happening… _has_ happened," Noldore said, taking a drink of his terribly bitter coffee. That was how he felt tonight, what he needed. "I feel as though I have been…misled."

"Used."

Noldore nodded. "Yes," he whispered, "by someone I thought I knew. I feel as…perhaps this is a bit ridiculous, but I feel as I would if it were Moraen committing adultery against _me_ , and we have been married forty years, not ten. Yet we…love one another the same…or so I thought." His voice had lowered even more in his sadness.

Dintîr nodded in agreement. "I thought, after his words to us, I thought that we would be _defending_ Elessar, not believing this madness."

"Hildanir does not lie," Noldore said, rubbing his hands on his own face. "Hildanir's second letter was even plainer than the _first_. It is not even a debate now; it is _done_ …the deed is _done_ , Dintîr. What does that…what does that _mean_?"

He stared blankly at his friend. "Well," he began quietly, "it means Gondor will soon have an heir if that is his goal and he is truly 'bedding her like a rabb—"

" _By Elbereth, do not repeat that phrase_ ," groaned Noldore, laying his head in his hands. "I cannot _take_ it, Dintîr! I meant what does it _mean_? What does it mean for _us_?"

"You usually take the lead in situations of etiquette," Dintîr replied, his voice hoarse. "Perhaps I should be asking you that question."

Noldore shook his head. "I do not know! I can think of only two choices that we have. Two choices, Dintîr, and I _hate_ them both. _I hate them_. And I hate _him_ for putting us here, in this position, with only these two choices after all of his words!" He slammed his fist down on the table, his face red. "How will I even look him in the face again after this?"

"I do not know," he replied, "I have been asking myself the same question. I feel as though we knew him better than this…or we _should_ have. How many times did he grow so angry with the Council? How many times did he question their motives? I mean, my god, he hit Nardur in the _face_!" He shook his head. "I do not know how to deal with this, how to understand it. I…I just do not know…"

"We have two choices," Noldore said again, sitting upright in order to confront the recent events and their two possible futures. "Our first choice: we never say a word about it. We allow the Council to continue as it is. We do not say anything to anyone, keep our mouths shut. Let everyone find out the truth on their own…" _Even Arwen..._ He left the words off the end, but Dintîr heard them just the same.

"How…how can we do that?" he asked painfully. "How can we do that knowing what we know? Knowing how she will feel? Knowing how much this will—"

"Dintîr, I _know_ ," he snapped. "I am saying what we _could_ do. Not what we _should_ do. I cannot do that either. I would never be able to look in her face and not blurt out everything that was said in that meeting today. Ugh…my stomach is churning now simply thinking about our other choice…"

"Our _only_ choice," Dintîr said softly, "but say it aloud anyway…just so I can feel my heart break as you do. Because it _should_."

"We tell the Evenstar the truth about her husband's betrayal."

Dintîr sighed. "Yes…that hurt as much as I thought it would to hear." He took a drink of the tea his wife had made him and looked into the face of his friend. "Noldore, she will not believe us. Not even _us._ "

"She will not at first," he agreed. "In the beginning she will never accept it. Perhaps that is good; it is a good defense against such…awful news."

"She will be furious with us."

He nodded. "For believing it."

"For _repeating_ it. And then she will want to know where the rumor began. She will never believe that a letter came from Hildanir…and that _ring_ —"

"Do not, Dintîr…please, do not bring that up," he said, and Dintîr watched Noldore's eyes fill with tears. The older man looked away. "I am so…I am…"

"I know," he said softly, nodding. There was silence between them as Noldore swallowed and then took a drink of his coffee. "Should we go tonight? Should we tell her now?"

Noldore frowned. "I will tell her," he said softly, meeting his friend's gaze again. "I think it should be me."

"I do not want you to have to go alone," Dintîr said firmly. "We were both asked to take care of her while he was away, we should—"

"No, no," he said. "No, let me do this, Dintîr. I do not think both of us need go."

He held out a hand. "Noldore, you are barely composed _here_ ," he said gently. "Perhaps it _needs_ to be me."

"No, it should be me, especially if she becomes angry. Let her take it out on me." He drank the last of his coffee.

" _When_ …" Dintîr added, " _when_ she becomes angry. She will; she is not going to believe it. I do not know when she will, or how she will react when she does, but—"

"She will be devastated," he said, coming to his feet. "It will be the worst betrayal of her long life." He set the cup back down on the table.

"Noldore, perhaps we should think about this more before you tell her," he said, his face worried. "What if telling her…what if telling her is worse than her finding out? What do you think she will _do_?"

"She will do what any other person who loves another so much they are fit to burst would do," he replied honestly. "Weep for everything she gave him that is lost. How any man can find love in the arms of someone not his own wife…disgusts me."

"He does not love _her_ ," Dintîr pointed out as Noldore put his hand on the door and pushed it open. "That much we know is true."

"What does it matter except to make it all the more despicable?" he replied, his voice full of both his disgust and misery. "I will return for Moraen shortly."

"I will be right here. Perhaps I will have a stiff drink for you as well."

"That would be most welcome."

* * *

 _God, I am caught deep in the valley_

 _With chaos for my company_

 _I will seek for comfort here_

 _For I know that you are near_

 _You can mend all that has shattered_

 _Though I am bruised and battered_

 _In the storm you are my fortress_

 _Your mercy is relentless_

 _My help comes from you,_

 _You are there holding me, too_

 _You carry my weakness, my sickness_

 _My brokenness all on your shoulders_

 _My help comes from you_

 _You are my rest, my rescue_

 _Though I cannot see I believe_

 _You lift me onto your shoulders_

As Arwen sat on the front porch of the King's House, she sang softly to herself. Legolas and Enguina had only just left her alone there, and she knew that tonight would be no different than any other night. Her sleeping hours had been few these last two months, but she attempted to keep pressing onward. She had to believe that what she was feeling: her despair, her hopelessness, her grief, her worry, that they would leave if she could only trust Ilúvatar with everything. She kept handing it to him, going to him with open arms and lifted hands and constant prayer. She could feel Aragorn tonight; he was in battle…in _battle_ , his mind a frenzy. It frightened her too much now to reach out to him; she was so afraid that her dream had been a vision. Enguina and Legolas had stayed and prayed with her tonight. That had helped.

 _Fear_ …fear was her enemy. Every single thing she had been feeling for the past two months extended from her fear; fear that her people judged her, fear that she could not bear a child, fear that she was not enough and that she never could be, fear that something terrible was going to happen to her beloved…oh, it consumed her heart! How she wished that she could simply lump it into her hands and hold it out to the Creator of the Universe to take away forever. She wanted to feel the security that should have been provided by her faith; she did not doubt that he could take it away. Yet…why did he not?

She opened her eyes and looked out into the night sky above the garden; so constant were the stars, the very same she had seen in the sky for as long as she could remember, all her life in fact. Humming the song she had been singing softly moments before, she thought of the words again, repeating them in her mind. Ilúvatar was carrying her on his shoulders…she just needed to remember it. As she lowered her head and was about to close her eyes, she heard footsteps out on the stone street before the House. She glanced over and was overcome with surprise to see Noldore there coming up from the sixth level. At this hour?

"Good evening, Evenstar," he said, pausing at the foot of the steps. She smiled at him and made to rise, but he held up a hand. "Please, do not get up. May I sit with you a moment?"

"Of course, Noldore," she replied and he came up alongside her, smiling as he took a seat. "Good evening to you as well. I would never have expected you so late."

"I…did not anticipate coming here so late either," he admitted. "You look lovely tonight," he added frankly. "It seems I always forget how beautiful you are until I see you once again in the moonlight and I am suddenly reminded."

She shook her head, blushing. "You are so kind, Noldore."

"No…I am too honest," he said truthfully, and his smile faded. "That is why I came."

Her confusion at his words turned to worry. Anxiety curdled suddenly in her stomach. "Are you well, Noldore? Your words…worry me."

"Forgive me," he said softly, and she could see how serious this conversation had become. His eyes were _sad_ , and her worry, her fear, increased. "You seem tired," he continued, and the turn of conversation was like a dousing in cold water. "Have you not been sleeping well?"

"I cannot hide that from anyone, it seems," she answered, studying his face. She could not pretend that his asking a question about something else had even caught her attention. "Noldore, what is the matter?" She could suddenly think of no reason why someone like him would come to her, this late in the evening, to sit with her and have sad eyes. _Oh…oh Lord…oh, Father!_ Her face immediately became pale and her hands began to tremble. "Have you," she whispered, and then tried again. "Have you had word from Aragorn?"

He looked at her and understood what was happening. "Nothing has happened to him that I know of," he replied, and she began to breathe normally again. "But…there are some tidings that have reached the Council…and you should know of them."

She already knew that this conversation was not to be a pleasant one. "From where did the tidings come? Our men in the North?"

He nodded. "We received word today and also not long ago. I…" he frowned and shook his head, his hands clasping in anxiety. She had never seen him so distraught before. "I should have told you when we received the first word, but…we were not sure until now that it was true. Dintîr and I debated long about…mentioning it at all." She was shaken; she wished he would simply get to the point so her mind was not going a million miles a minute with a thousand hypotheses of what had happened. He reached out and took her hands in his own, but he could not look into her eyes. "Neither one of us could believe…we could not believe, but there is _evidence…_ "

She stared at him, uncomprehending, full of incredible fear. " _Evidence?_ Noldore, for the love of Heaven, speak plain! My heart cannot take any more of your cryptic words."

"My heart is so burdened by this rumor that has reached us, by words of a wicked deed that has been done. And I _must_ tell you; my conscience, Dintîr's conscience, will let us do nothing else."

She thought to Dintîr's words to her about rumors within the Council that might be out there simply to hurt her, that he had been worried that something was coming. Had they known about something and not told her? What could possibly be worse than any other rumors that had already been spoken of her or to her? How could more lies come from the Council? What more could they say?

"Noldore, please…end my suffering," she whispered. "Tell me."

"I fear that this will only bring you more," he answered honestly, and her heart dropped into her toes. He sighed heavily.

"Speak. I cannot bear to ask again."

He did not ask her to go inside and speak in private, but he did lower his voice in hopes only the two of them would be heard. "Two letters were sent by Lieutenant Hildanir explaining the journeying of the soldiers and so far, what has been accomplished and where they are. A rumor has taken hold, with evidence provided in these letters by Hildanir himself, that…that the King made this journey for more reasons than the one provided by the Council."

"Aragorn left on this mission _because_ of the Council," Arwen reminded him. "It was a mutual agreement; he saw the need for it."

Noldore nodded. "Yes, but Hildanir mentioned that there were other reasons, not least of which was that he was traveling so long with a particular person, taking this person under the guise of traveling with them for safety, yet for a reason entirely different." He paused and Arwen's mind flew forward into the realm of impossibility: Aragorn having secret motives? Did the Council even _know_ him? "His true purpose was to travel with the Lady of Lórien…with Erumar."

Arwen stared at him, her expression one of total confusion. "What?"

"The King's true purpose in traveling was to spend time with _her_ … _alone_ …if you understand me," he said gently. "He made plans, even before he left, to become close with her before traveling to Eryn Lasgalen."

"To…to 'become close with her?'"

"The King…intends to lie with the Lady before his return." Noldore said the words so softly that Arwen had to repeat them in her mind four times so that she could grasp their meaning.

 _The King intends to lie with the Lady before his return…the King intends to lie with the Lady…Aragorn intends to lie with the Lady…Aragorn intends to lie with Erumar…_

" _What?_ " she asked and shook her head in disbelief. "I…how can you…he…I…" She shook her head again, this time vehemently. Her lips firmed and she replied, rather harshly. " _No_ , Noldore! How could you believe such a thing? This is _Aragorn_ you speak of! _Aragorn!_ Such a thing is—"

"Not possible," he agreed. "I know." His face was so terribly sad that it flooded her with _fury_.

" _You know?_ Then how could you come to me with such _ridiculousness_!" All her worry, all her fear in the last five minutes was unfounded…it made her think he was laughing at her. "How could you say that he would do such a thing? You _know_ him! _I_ know him! Why would you even _think_ of coming here and telling me such _nonsense!_ "

She met his eyes and saw nothing in his that was even remotely defensive. He simply sat, listening to her berate him for bringing her such information. It was this non-reaction that put her fire out almost immediately. She tried to remember to breathe past her anger, breathe past the fear that was gnawing at her stomach. She remembered his words from earlier.

"You…" she stuttered out, trying to think around this conversation. It was nearly impossible. "You…you said there was—"

"Evidence. Yes."

She almost did not hear him as he spoke. He said something more about Hildanir— _Hildanir!_ —and two messages, something about words spoken before the Council of doubts and insecurities, something of their hesitation to mention it to her, something about her bearing a child, something more about the journey having another purpose to fulfill Gondor's need, and that the need was fulfilled, that it would be certain, that the deed had already been done…that the Council no longer needed to worry about an heir. But there was more, he had said, and when he began again, she held up her hand.

"No," she said, shaking her head as she stared into his eyes, "no more, Noldore." She pulled her other hand from his and set them both in her own lap. "Nothing…nothing disturbs me more than that you have believed this nonsense. The Council lies…it is all lies, _all of it!_ "

"Hildanir—"

"Who knows what Hildanir supposedly wrote and what he did not? Who was trustworthy enough to identify his writing?" she asked firmly.

"Evenstar," he said gently, "Hildanir is Nardur's nephew, so—"

"How _convenient_!" she snapped angrily, suddenly laughing in disbelief. "Another _scheme_ of the Council's doing! My _god_ , it should be scattered to the four winds! Insults against _me_ ," she said, her eyes welling up with infuriated tears, "I could tolerate, but slander against Aragorn? Against the most honest and kind-hearted and…no! It shall not stand! _Never_. I will hear not one _word_ , Noldore!" She hated Nardur so much in that moment that she could hardly think straight. If he was standing beside her right now, she might have run him through. She was so angry that she thought she still might find his home and murder him in his sleep.

She stood. "I cannot _believe_ that _you_ would believe this! To trust someone who has _lied_ and has said so many _hateful_ things all this time!"

After all this time, the men who were Aragorn's closest friends on the Council were doubting his character! How could she stand it? How could she even hear it? Aragorn was all that was kind and good and generous and loving, loving, _loving_ in the world! He would _never_ betray her! Had he not just pledged himself to always tell her the truth? Had he not pledged that he would never, ever love another? Had he not told her that she was all he had ever wanted since he was twenty years of age; that she was all he needed to be happy; that he needed her to survive, to have peace, to be himself? No, it could not _be_. _She would not hear another word!_

"I do not want to, Arwen," he said, his voice gentle as he tried to diffuse her. She should have taken pause at the use of her name, but she was too angry to notice. "I do not want to believe it, to trust Nardur, but there is little choice… _Hildanir_ …"

"It is a _ruse_ ," she said, shaking her head. "Noldore, can you not see? No one knows Hildanir as he does! He wrote the letters himself! It makes me _sick!_ I am _done_ with this; finished with the Council, finished with the _lies, the deceit!_ I am finished with _him_. Nardur needs to be silenced, and it is clear to me now that _I_ need to be the one to act."

He stood up beside her, blocking her path from the House towards the sixth level. "This moment is not a good time to confront him," he offered, trying to placate her. "It is _late_ , and already you are seething with anger. The Council is not behind this, not this time; I know in the past they have done so much to hurt you—"

"Vändir nearly destroyed our marriage!" she cried.

"Yes, but he is dead, and most of the Council are not men like him," he said honestly. "Most of them are good men—"

"Who are being _misled_ ," she insisted. "Nardur is poisoning all of you with whatever sort of scheme this is! I will not stand for it, Noldore."

"I…" He hesitated. There was nothing more that he wanted to believe than that this whole thing was some sort of scheme made up by Nardur; he wanted to believe it so badly and shove away every negative thought he had about the King; the King was his friend. He reached out and took her arms in his hands. "You are undeniably angry right now," he said, "and rightfully so. Take a moment to listen to me, to catch your breath. I have never given you ill counsel before."

"Aside from now," she said firmly, but she let him hold onto her. That at least was a good sign. He leapt at the opportunity, refusing to be hurt by her words.

"I agree that confronting Nardur is an excellent idea. The letter _is_ suspicious when looked at in the light of Hildanir being his nephew. This confrontation, however, cannot happen tonight. You will get nothing out of him; in fact, he more than likely will not even answer the door at this hour."

"I…do not wish to wait," she stated, but he could tell she was trying to calm down.

"I understand, but I think if you were calmer, you would be able to discuss things longer without lunging down his throat. Let it…let it go until morning. Then you can force him to tell the truth. I will come with you."

"No," she said, resolute. "It will be me, myself, alone. Aragorn is my husband, and I will not listen to such lies about him. Not from _anyone_ , Noldore." She said firmly. " _Anyone_."

He understood exactly what she was saying. She would not tolerate another word about it even from him…or Dintîr for that matter. She was making that perfectly clear. He nodded slowly; oh, how he wanted to believe in that moment! How he wanted to have her unshakable loyalty, her extreme devotion, her unwavering love and affection for the man whose heart she knew better than her own! How he wished he had not heard the things he had, had not seen what he had seen; perhaps then, perhaps he could have had her faith!

"Yes, Evenstar," he said gently, releasing her arms. "Forgive me, for upsetting you, for angering you. I know that rumors abound in this City; I thought you needed to know about these, most especially. I want you to disprove them," he added.

"I will," she said. "I _am_ grateful, Noldore, that you came…that you told me of these rumors. I am sorry that I lost my temper and that I was angry with you. You were only the courier."

"Do not be," he said, shaking his head. "If you did not care what was said about him, how much would it show that you loved him? Please…if you do wish someone to go with you—"

"I will be fine, Noldore. I _want_ to confront him alone. I will handle this."

It was not much later that Noldore left. Little did the man know that after all of the chaos that the past few months had been, he had provided the perfect wedge between her and the darkness of the night, the terror her dreams had been bringing her—her furious anger cast out everything in her mind except what she was going to say to Nardur before she cut out his tongue.

Though it was not easy to fall asleep, once she had, it was the first night she slept with not a single dream. The worries in the back of her mind paled in comparison to thoughts of forcing Nardur's foul words down his lying throat.

* * *

"Drive them back!" screamed Mennev, swinging his sword high in the air as he rallied the Gondorians nearby. " _Drive the bastards back to their hiding holes!_ "

An answering cry came from down the line of warriors. "Slay them all!" That was the voice of Luglog, and the Easterlings let out their frightful cries that should have induced terror into the hearts of the orcs, if they feared anything at all.

But they should have feared these men and women, at least by now. Night had fallen heavily and the morning was almost here; thankfully the rain had ended. Their ranks had dwindled to less than a hundred. The battle had gone on all through the day, numerous times the orcs had to scramble back and regroup to reform their line. Several Gondorians had taken to their horses and had been racing along the edge of their ranks, cutting down the orcs on the end. This had been Hildanir's idea, and Aragorn thought it a great one. In fact, the orcs had run out of arrows long ago, and the horses were in much less danger than those on the ground. With only brief respites, the hours of fighting were wearing on them, but they were determined to finish the job. They had beaten them back past the second set of barricades, and Aragorn was impressed with their small force and its accomplishments…and how much Ilúvatar had been watching over them. They had, thankfully and amazingly, only lost about twenty men.

Finally, after an assault that had lasted nearly thirty-two hours, the orcs at the back turned and began to retreat. It did not take long for the last fifty-five orcs to decide that there was no way they were going to succeed. Fânrim took aim as they ran away, shooting two in the back and dropping them. Tauriel sheathed her daggers and stood, staring out at them as several Easterlings took off running after them, spears in hand, ready to chase them down until their deaths.

"Tauriel," Fânrim said, still aiming, "we should finish them." She nodded as cheers were taken up around them by numerous Gondorians. He whistled long through his teeth, back in the direction they had come. Tauriel turned to Aragorn, who wiped and sheathed his sword. He was filthy from head to toe, covered with mud and orc blood and had a few scrapes of his own; mostly his hands from physical assaults. Tauriel was favoring her shoulder and leg, but other than that and the scratches upon her throat, she seemed to be all right.

"By your leave, my Lord," she said, "let me take a small battalion and finish them."

"I do not tell you what to do, Tauriel," he said softly. "But you have my blessing, if that is what you seek. I am sure Luglog and Ghashbûr would—"

"Let us come with you," growled Luglog, hefting his scythe. "I will help you finish them."

Tauriel bowed her head to Aragorn. "I would welcome any who wish to come. It should not take long."

"We will come," answered Ghashbûr. Several Gondorians came to her side as well as a few Easterlings. As they waited for their horses to arrive, Fânrim touched Tauriel's arm.

"Do you think we should send messengers to the King? Let him know the battle is finished, won?" He looked around as many Gondorians and Easterlings were already piling bodies and searching for wounded comrades.

"Perhaps Lithair will go?" she asked and Fânrim nodded.

"Where Lithair goes, I go," Jeret said suddenly. The two of them had fought together on the battlefield for many hours, and the elf smiled at the man's outburst. Jeret bowed his head when he looked to the King. "That's if you'll give me leave, my King."

"Go with your friend. I am sure he will need help explaining what happened here. Urge Thranduil to hurry, please…we are in need of his supplies and aid."

The horses arrived in the meantime, and Tauriel, Fânrim and their battalion mounted up. Ghashbûr also prepared several riders to go north to the encampment where the women and wounded had been staying and bring them the good tidings more quickly until the men would follow. They would all travel North up the Celduin and meet there within a little while; Aragorn and his men when the land was cleansed from the battle, and Tauriel with her battalion after their business with the orcs was finished. Lithair and Jenet also set out at that time, heading north as Tauriel headed south, Mennev among the troops.

"Ethring," Aragorn said, turning towards him as the riders set out, "where is Lieutenant Hildanir?"

The man pointed out, far afield. "He is riding about with several other men, searching for wounded." Aragorn set his hand on his shoulder.

"Sit down, son," he said, "you are exhausted." Gratefully, Ethring took a seat on the ground. "Every man fought hard, fought well here today. You have each earned your rest." He smiled at them, and the men who were still milling about began to sit down, just as Ethring was. "Take a moment and recover from battle."

He could see Erumar with several of the other bowmen, collecting many arrows that were still useable from some of the bodies and the ground. He watched her, impressed by both her stamina and her dedication to this cause when she had simply been along for the ride. He was proud of her sacrifice. Each one of them was exhausted, but there was still work to be done. He had every intention of walking about among the dead as well. He needed to be sure that every one of his men were accounted for. There were at least ten Gondorians and ten Easterlings that had fallen, and he would not leave a single one of them to be burned among the carcasses of orcs.

He walked out from among the men and headed back towards a set of barricades that they had erected, walking carefully in between the bodies for some time; dawn had come and this morning the sun began to shine. As he approached the barricade, his eyes followed Hildanir in the distance, back the way they had come, already searching. He should find Brego among the horses and follow suit shortly. This had been a victory, but there were still dead, and they had slaughtered many as well. It followed, with his mind so focused on what had happened, the dead and the path now for the living, that something coming at him from behind their homemade barricade would not be seen at all.

A snarl was all the warning Aragorn had; he had no time to draw his sword or even turn his head. The warg leapt out of the bushes and landed beside him, its heavy jaws snapping down over his right shoulder and upper arm with a ferocity that could not be matched, piercing the mail he wore and digging in deep. The immediate pain was excruciating, the rancid breath of the warg all he could smell, but Aragorn reached with his left hand and snatched the hilt of the dagger he wore at his back, twisting it in his hand to stab it repeatedly into the wolf's muzzle.

He heard some furious shouting that he assumed was about himself, but he kept stabbing, unable to even think about anything else as the warg held fast. Snarling and already wounded, the huge animal's jaw gripped harder as it lifted him bodily and shook him like a rag doll as he yelled in pain. It finally released him, flinging him into the air. Aragorn landed hard, his body crumpling, but he forced himself to spin away. Rolling over and over before coming to a stop against an orc body, trying to catch his breath. The warg leapt for his throat even as two or three arrows pierced it, and he forced himself to roll over and out of the way—into and under the barricade. There were snarls and howls as he reached the other side, and then the warg's rider appeared from behind the make-shift bushes, stabbing downward towards his face.

Aragorn knocked the swing aside with the knife, left-handed; the blade slipped from its target and pierced his already destroyed shoulder, breaking through the mail where it had become weak. He did not waste any time as he tried to stab his attacker in the side of the head, missing by mere centimeters as the orc shied away, yanking his sword out and trying again to run him through. Aragorn's right side was almost completely useless and barely moveable, so this time, Aragorn rolled away in the opposite direction, but sluggish and in pain, he could not get out of the way fast enough. The orc's downward stab had not been headed for his chest; it had been headed for his stomach. His rolling saved his life, but did not get him far enough away as the sword blade sliced underneath the rolled mail and pierced his right hip. The momentum of the stab carried the orc forward further than he thought.

No time to yell in pain, no time to _think_. Aragorn backhanded the orc's face with his knife instead of trying to get away and then jammed the blade upwards through the orc's chin and into his skull just as two arrows thudded through the orc's chest. Aragorn released the dagger and the orc fell, but the blade still pinned him. He wanted to writhe on the ground, he was in so much pain, and he could hear voices much closer, but there was no response he could make. He could hardly breathe in, each breath almost a wheeze. He could tell the rings from the mail were embedded in the wound from the pressure of the warg's jaw.

"To the King!"

"My Lord!"

" _Elessar!_ " That was Hildanir. He was not sure why he singled his voice out, but he knew vaguely it was his. Normally, Aragorn was better at these things…at keeping awake…at dealing with pain. He had never been in such a state; he could not feel his right arm—he wondered, vaguely, if it was still attached to his body or if it was just the mail holding it to him.

"Aragorn… _!_ " That was…Erumar _…_ He felt her fingers touch his face, tried to open his eyes and was unsuccessful. He was fading fast and he simply let himself go.

 _Aragorn!_

That was… _Arwen…_


	37. Chapter 37

Author's Note: The song in this chapter is an old children's Bible school chorus by Ernie & Debbie Rettino; I didn't write it and I don't own it, though I did add a little bit into it. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Legolas was still laughing as he and Enguina came up the walk towards the King's House, her arm through his. It had been another early morning for Enguina, which was growing incredibly annoying for her, though not for Legolas who continued to attempt to soothe the baby to sleep through song or touch. This tended to wake the baby _more_ , however, and Enguina was beginning to think that the baby simply was trying to tell her he wanted more of his father. Well, that was fine with her; _she_ wanted more of him, too. But could they not want Legolas in the same way, at the same moment? That was what had caused her husband to laugh at her as they were walking.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I am _serious_ , Legolas. I never thought that the baby would sleep all day and not give me any peace at night." She stopped suddenly, wincing. "Ouch…" she murmured, rubbing the left side of her belly.

" _What_?" he said, reaching for her womb as well. It was the suddenness of her stopping that startled him, frightened him. " _Guin_ —"

"He just…kicked _really_ hard. He is so _strong_."

"Where?" he asked and she moved his hand to her belly, but not where the baby had kicked.

"He kicked over here," she said, rubbing the spot with her own hand, "but feel this over _here_." As she went to lay his hand down, she did not even need to guide it as he could visibly see the bump where the baby's butt, or head, was through her dress.

"That is… _incredible_ …" he breathed. She rubbed the spot on her belly and smiled. "What…what is—"

"Head, I think," she said, overwhelmed herself.

He lifted his awed gaze to look at her. " _God,_ " he muttered, pressing his cheek to hers so that he could insure only she could hear him, " _I want to lift your dress right now—_ "

" _Legolas!_ "

 _"—and plant kisses all over your belly."_

She blushed terribly, just at his words, even though there was not a soul around to hear them. "Legolas, _please_ …careful what you say…" She swallowed hard and he laughed at her.

"Sometimes my words simply slip out."

"We are…we are in a _very_ public place."

"Is it terrible that I want to go home, right now?" She could feel his fingers rubbing the bump in her dress. Her stomach flipped over.

"You are embarrassing me," she whispered.

"I am so used to having you alone and all to myself," he replied, "where I can say whatever I want, whenever I want. Erumar notwithstanding. I…cannot help myself. You are _so_ desirable…"

"Down, you ill-mannered troll," she said in the same low voice. She tried to pull back from him.

He let her, but smiled. "I _love_ it when you call me that."

She gave a sigh, but it was fake. "We told Arwen we would meet her for breakfast, and we are. Come along now."

"Wait," he said, holding her back. "I want to touch him when I can _see_ him."

"Legolas," she said, her voice lowering with her discomfiture, "at _least_ let me get off the street into the King's House!"

"But what if he moves?" he asked seriously.

" _Please…_ " she begged him, and he released her immediately, looking at her with concern.

"Do I…have I embarrassed you that much? Forgive me." He appeared extremely contrite, and she shook her head.

"I…you do not think of the way others may perceive us. This is already public enough."

"It should be," he said, suddenly firm. "We have nothing to hide; you are with child, and I am delighted. What is wrong with that?"

"Should not some things be…between us and not the world?" she asked softly. "The child moving," she continued, taking his hand and leading him towards the steps, "is something for _us_ to share. Out here on the streets of Minas Tirith is not really the place, Legolas."

"But I have never seen him like _that_. That was his _head_ , Enguina."

"I know. It just…was not the right place." She felt badly at reminding him that a public place was not the time to touch her like that, so intimately, or speak such intimate words. When they were alone, even among Arwen or other close friends was tolerable, but on a public street?

He tugged her to a stop just before she reached for the door. "Guin," he said, reaching up to touch her face, "please…forgive me. Sometimes I…forget where I am, who I am with, and all I can think about is you. I forget the world. I am sorry."

She gave him a little smile, brushing aside her embarrassment. "I forgive you. Come inside now."

The two of them entered the kitchen to find Arwen seated at the table. It only took Enguina the time it took for Legolas to close the door to know something was terribly wrong. Arwen's hands covered the lower half of her face, trembling fingers pressed to her lips; her eyes were red but they were open and her hair looked as though she had been tangling it in her hands for twenty minutes. As Enguina came toward her, Arwen's hands lowered and it was clear her lips were trembling. Enguina was reaching for her hands even as Legolas was turning around back towards them.

"Arwen, what is the matter?"

" _Aragorn_ …" she said, her voice as soft as ever, but this time her eyes filled with tears of worry, of dread. "Aragorn has been _hurt_ …"

"Hurt?"

"What?" asked Legolas from behind her, coming to rest a hand on Enguina's shoulder.

" _How,_ Arwen? How do you know? Did you receive a messenger?" she asked and Arwen shook her head. She pulled one of her hands out of Enguina's as her eyes closed, her hand gripping her own right shoulder.

"I _felt_ him…I _saw_ him…"

"You _saw_ him?" she said, startled.

"A warg had a hold on his shoulder," she said, swallowing hard. "I could see its eyes, its teeth digging to bone…his blood was…he was in _such_ pain." She rested her forehead on her hand. " _And there is nothing I can do for him_."

Legolas stared at her, terribly worried for his friend, but he made himself release Enguina so she could hug Arwen, slipping her arm around her neck and laying her head on top of hers. "He is…he is alive. He is alive, yes, Arwen?"

She nodded. "His reach woke me out of a sound sleep, not even an hour ago." She shook her head. "I do not think he meant to…" Legolas thought of Enguina reaching out in her dream, uncontrolled.

"No…he probably did not," he agreed. He took a seat across from her at the table. "Did you see anything else?"

She shook her head again, her voice even softer. "No…" Her hand rubbed her shoulder again. "Oh… _it hurt so much_ …I tried to send him what peace I could, and comfort, but I was _so_ terrified that—"

"This was a vision," Legolas said gently, remembering her words from the other night. "You saw him in your dream. You said that you—"

" _No_!" Arwen cried out, unexpectedly, scaring Enguina and causing Legolas to jump. She just as suddenly broke down into tears, pressing her palms into her eyes. "No, _no_ , _**no**_ _!_ It _cannot_ be! It was just a dream! It _had_ to be a dream! It just… _happened_! It was not the same! _It was not!_ "

It could _not_ be real. If her thoughts of Aragorn, even if they did not lead to the same events, were a vision, how much more could it be true that the _other_ was a vision? The rumors of Aragorn and _who_ he was with; the truth of what the letter from Hildanir contained; the words of Noldore that Aragorn had betrayed her…with Erumar… _the dark-haired woman!_ _Oh, Ilúvatar forbid it, could it be true? Could the dream be a vision of him and Erumar? It could not be!_ She wept even harder, terrified of the very thought of it.

 _Please! Please, Ilúvatar, help me!_

"Arwen, _calm down…shh_ ," Enguina said full of alarm, holding her more tightly than before. Arwen gripped her arms, her eyes tightly closed as she cried.

"Please pray!" Arwen gasped out, clutching Enguina. She could never have told her what else was in her heart. " _Please_ pray for him!"

Legolas stood, not wanting to say another word about the visions. He came around to stand beside her and placed his hands on them, one on Enguina's back and the other on Arwen's shoulder.

"Father," Legolas said softly, "you are in control of every situation and will never forsake us. You will not let us stumble and fall in the darkness; you shine your light on every path and lead us out where your light shines. We know that Aragorn is injured, wounded, we do not know how terribly. We are seeking your peace, your comfort in this situation while we are here, and he is so far from us. There is nothing that _we_ can do, but you can do all things. Be near him; lay your hand of mercy and healing on him as he has healed so many others, in fact each one of us here before you. You are in control, Father; you are the one who can bring him home safely to us, to Arwen. Let him know that you are with him every moment; heal him, shield and comfort him from the pain. Put someone in his path that can give him healing, that can comfort him…or miraculously heal him yourself. Be with him and bring him home."

Enguina began to sing softly:

 _I cast all my cares upon you_

 _I lay all of my burdens down at your feet_

 _And any time I do not know what to do_

 _I will cast all my cares upon you_

 _Take all my anxiousness, take all my fear_

 _Take all my worry and dread_

 _Take all that shakes me, take all my pain_

 _Be with me, remind me to trust_

 _I cast all my cares upon you_

 _I lay all of my burdens down at your feet_

 _And any time I do not know what to do_

 _I will cast all my cares upon you_

"Thank you," Arwen whispered, "oh, thank you. _That_ was just what I needed." Enguina did not say anything, just kissed her on the top of the head. Legolas released them both as Arwen straightened. Enguina left her hands on her shoulders and Legolas leaned against the edge of the table not wanting to move far from her side. Arwen lifted her hands to wipe her face. "I…have never been so… _afraid_ of anything." Her hands were still trembling and Legolas reached out to hold them; they were so cold.

"He is going to be all right," he said. "He is not alone out there. Hildanir, Erumar, Mennev…they are all with him."

She nodded, repeating the words of Enguina's simple song in her heart, over and over. _I lay all of my burdens down at your feet…I lay all of my burdens down at your feet…_ Tears came to her eyes again. _All of my burdens…oh, Father! There are so many!_

"Shall we have breakfast?" Enguina asked softly.

"Please," Arwen said, "make yourselves at home. I am not hungry at the moment. I would be willing to help though."

"Stay there," Legolas said. "I will make some tea for you."

"How about some bread?" Enguina said. "Maybe by the time it is finished, you will be hungry."

"Perhaps," she said. She doubted that.

Legolas and Enguina busied themselves; there was nothing more to be said about Aragorn. They had done the only thing that they could do, that would matter; it was all in Ilúvatar's hands. As Arwen sat there watching them, she finally got to her feet.

"I need to make myself a bit more presentable," she said, finally collecting herself enough to sound reasonable, to sound as though she might not burst into tears at any moment. "I will be just a few moments."

They intended to allow her whatever time she needed, even _more_ than they thought she needed. This was no easy situation with no easy way of dealing with any of it. They would be here for her, and pray for Aragorn. That was all they could do for now.

* * *

The only thing Erumar could call what Aragorn was going through right now was _surgery_. That had to be what it was, because they were essentially pulling apart the chain mail piece by piece and taking the broken pieces out of the tatters of Aragorn's skin as he was lying on the ground behind the barricade. The only reason she was here was because she had the steadiest hands and a set of long nails that she was using at the moment to pry things out of the worst wound she had ever encountered. Her stomach was churning, but she forced herself to remain calm and focus on what mattered: saving Aragorn's life. She wished with all her heart that Tauriel had not gone after the orcs.

" _Oh god_ …"

That was Hildanir again; the man was a _wreck_. He had been the first to reach the warg and stab it repeatedly from horseback after the arrows would not bring it down to prevent it from snatching Aragorn up by the leg as it had attempted. He had also been the first on the ground beside the King. The arrows in the orc came from the elves: her and fellow bowman, Eldarn, a friend she had made, who sat beside her, holding the pan she was dropping the steel into. Every man left on the battlefield was there, hovering; some stood a few feet away, some were kneeling in small groups in prayer. He was their King…even the Easterlings whom he had helped save and lead into battle were near, all mixed together, united in both battle and now in common cause.

"Stop, Hildanir," said Ethring, who was continuing to prepare compresses to bind the wound when she was finished. "If you cannot stomach this, stand back."

"This should not have…things like this should not happen," Hildanir muttered under his breath, covering his face with his hands. "The battle was _over_ …we were _safe_ …"

"You are doing very well," Eldarn said to Erumar, his voice quiet and calm. She thanked Ilúvatar silently for him as she dropped yet another few pieces of the mail in his hands.

"You are so encouraging," she said, giving him a half smile. "I think I am nearly done."

"Thank Eru!" cried Hildanir, coming nearer.

"She did not say she _was_ done, Hildanir," griped Ethring. "Get back."

"Quiet," Eldarn said peaceably. "She needs concentration, and your bickering is not assisting in the matter. Lieutenant," he added to Hildanir, "perhaps you would be better served finding the King's horse. If I know anything about him at all, he will have some herbs that we may use for the compresses. Though none of us here are Healers, they will surely help." Hildanir immediately hurried off, scanning the plain for the horses that were standing about eating the long prairie grass.

"Brego! _Brego!_ "

"That will help him immensely," Erumar said, referring to Hildanir as she studied the wound underneath her fingers, her hands deep in Aragorn's blood. "I think that is the last of them. I think the wounds are clean of the shards." Eldarn set down the pan and reached for the water the men had heated for them. He handed it to her as she moved back so she could cleanse the wound. His arm was damaged in several places, and she was worried that pouring water over it might damage it further. She could see bone, and so she took a clean cloth and began carefully cleaning what was left of his skin and muscle. As torn as it was, she did at least have something to work with. She knew enough to make him comfortable, but not enough to bring him any healing. Before, Ethring had placed a compress over and packing inside the puncture wound through Aragorn's hip, so that wound was no longer bleeding either.

Hildanir arrived with Brego several minutes later, calmer as predicted, and Eldarn rose to look through the bay's saddlebags for the herbs. The horse was clearly distressed, but the elf spoke to him gently and he began to calm down, snorting and scraping the ground with his hooves. Eldarn took the herbs and ground them, making a thick paste which he spread into the wounds on Aragorn's right shoulder and arm. They then wrapped them tightly, binding the King's arm to his chest so he would not move it at all, if he could, when he woke.

"When will the King wake?" asked Ethring and Eldarn shook his head.

"I would expect not soon," he stated. "Elessar is pale; he has lost much blood. Even if he wakes, he may not wake fully. He is lucky to even be alive, to still have his arm. He will be even more fortunate if he retains the use of it."

There was complete silence in the men standing around, and several of them hung their heads with such a diagnosis. They were thankful, though, that their King was even alive.

"What do we do now?" asked Tiftka, one of the Easterlings, his voice carrying a heavy accent.

"We follow the King's plan," Hildanir said softly, and everyone looked to him. "We were to follow the Celduin to your people, so we will continue north. It should not take more than a day or so to reach them, depending on how quickly we may travel. Hopefully, by the time we arrive, there will be better care for the King."

"If we are very fortunate, perhaps King Thranduil will have arrived," Eldarn said. "Though…I very much doubt it. Perhaps Tauriel will come soon as well; she has more healing in her than most."

Erumar wiped her hands on a cloth and reached down to smooth Aragorn's hair back. "How can we move him carefully?" she asked, looking up at Ethring. "If he wakes, he will be in great pain."

"We had a cart to haul the bodies," said one of the Easterling women, pointing. "We can let it carry him up river once the burning is as complete as possible."

Ethring frowned. "How long do you think that will take?"

"Before night fall," replied another Gondorian. "Then we need to make our way back toward the third barricade. We should be able to rest there, and then head out sometime in the night. The faster we leave, the faster the journey."

"I agree," Eldarn said. He looked down at Erumar. "Will you remain with the King?"

"Of course," she said, laying her hand on his brow.

Eldarn looked to Tiftka. "Will you take watch? We shall rotate the position."

"Of course," he said gruffly, his voice muffled by his scarf and helm as he set his spear into the dirt. "The King Elessar is my King as well." He thumped his chest once and the other Easterlings did the same.

"In one hour, I will be the first relief," said Ethring, getting to his feet. Hildanir nodded to Eldarn.

"Let us make quick work of this so we can be on our way and get the King to safety and aid."

* * *

It was early evening in Minas Tirith. Arwen was walking the stairs into Ecthelion alone, her mind set on confrontation, to know the truth of all that had been happening. Enguina and Legolas had gone home early tonight; they had remained with her yesterday and most of the day and she was glad of that, happy they had been kind enough to do so. When they left, it was because Enguina could clearly not keep her eyes open anymore, and Arwen had urged them to go. Not long afterwards, she left the House herself for Ecthelion, assuming that was where Nardur might be. She tried, at least for the moment, to keep thoughts of a wounded Aragorn from her mind; it had been two days since she had felt his pain. Instead, she had a snake to crush beneath her foot.

She was surprised that the object of her search stood alone in the center of the throne room, standing near the throne and looking at it as if Aragorn were sitting on it. For some reason, that infuriated her, and she had to swallow an outburst. He had not turned around when the door opened and closed; she wondered how many more were in Ecthelion tonight, but she refused to hide from the conversation simply because she did not want others to overhear. No, this was getting done tonight.

"Nardur," she said, and he turned in surprise to hear her voice echo so powerfully across the chamber when she was usually so soft-spoken. He bowed to her as she inclined her head to him.

"My Queen," he said, his tone one of surprise, "good evening. May I help you?"

"I must speak with you," she replied, coming nearer to him and taking up a position across from him. "I am disturbed in my heart tonight." Her gaze was steady, but her eyes were dark. This was a rare move for her, to confront him so openly, and he both welcomed and feared the confrontation. He needed to say all of the right things, otherwise, she would never believe her husband would ever seek the arms of another woman. He needed to be careful. "I have been hearing the most dreadful of rumors, and I refuse to let them stand any longer. I have heard and followed the trail myself and many of them began right here."

"With the Council?" he asked, appearing startled. "My Lady, I assure you the Council—"

" _Not_ the Council," she interrupted him, knowing it was rude of her and doing it anyway. Her temper was flaming; for almost three days this confrontation had been stewing in her mind, what she would say and how she would do it. Her husband had been wounded; she was _barely_ handling that grief, and to remember what had been spread about him? No, as she had told Noldore last night, it would not stand. " _You. You_ have begun these rumors, and they will stop here and now."

He almost wanted to smile, but he refrained. _Ah…thank you, Noldore…and Legolas. Now, you little bitch…try me._ "Evenstar," he said, "I have no idea what rumors you are referring to. I have begun nothing. Can you describe them? If it is within my power, I will put a stop to them for you."

"It is well-within your power," she said sharply. "There are councilmen and citizens walking in Minas Tirith with slander against my husband on their lips. No one has the right to say such criticisms about him, not even you, but to spread them about the City…" Her face held a look of disgust. "It is unthinkable to question a man with such faultless character."

He paused, holding up a hand that he laid over his heart. "My Lady, I can only guess at the rumors that you are speaking of, but where there is power, rumors abound. The King has many secrets, I am sure."

"Rumors abound," she said, her voice still soft, but angry, "because you begin them. Aragorn is an excellent King, and the very best and most honest of men. He keeps no secrets, from his people, nor from his wife. I will remind you that there _were_ men who slandered the King and they are now very dead indeed!" Her eyes flashed. " _You_ are the man spreading these lies. You will stop now. You have no right."

"My Lady," he said, "I am afraid I know of no rumors concerning the King, unless you are referring to truth, not rumor. You have that part mistaken, and I am spreading nothing, merely passing on a letter that was received from a messenger or two. Both were read aloud to all of the Council and there was nothing to conceal in either letter. Perhaps you heard something—"

If she had not been so angry, she might have laughed in his face. "You are spreading lies and deceit," she told him angrily, "just as Vändir had weeks ago and was sentenced to death by Legolas. These are the same petty lies and foolishness that began nearly five years ago before I was with child. Aragorn was to have a mistress according to the Council and—"

"My Lady," he said sadly, reaching forward to touch her hands and she tugged them away, holding them out of his reach. She was not about to let him touch her if she could help it.

"Do _not_ patronize me," she stated, "and do not deny your hand in these rumors! Aragorn refused you all then, stated that he would not find another. How _dare_ you try to make him look as dishonest as the rest of you? He would never betray the oaths he took with me; he has said so many times. You, who swore oaths of fealty and allegiance to Gondor and her King—"

"Did not the King swear oaths of allegiance to Gondor?" he asked and she paused for a moment. "Of course, he did," he answered nodding. "Which ones matter most to the King? That is the question that must be asked. The rumors you are hearing are not rumors; letters were received that are truth! I can explain if you wish."

"Do not bother. You cannot expect me to believe a word—"

"I expect nothing of you but to hear me, if you would," he stated, his voice full of sympathy. "I had thought the King himself would have told you of his intentions _before_ he left the City, knowing how close the two of you are. The King clearly had been planning this at some point, my Lady, because he was intending this all along. It is the reason the Lady traveled with him."

"The Lady traveled with my husband to find peace in Eryn Lasgalen," she told him. "Erumar was traveling with them so she would be _safe_ ; she did not go for _him!_ "

"I do not know why he would have told you that lie, or that she would for that matter," he replied. "The King had been intending intimate relations with her since before he left. He even left something here that he did not want to have as a reminder of his fidelity to you. But you must understand," he said quickly, before she could interrupt, "he did not mean it to hurt you. He was doing all of this in service to Gondor! I thought he would have told you, or that you had spoken of it and were included in the decision." His eyes were sad when he looked on her. "I must have been mistaken."

"You continue to lie, even when confronted, face to face?" she asked, all astonishment at his vile nature. "Why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth? You, who have sought to wound me at every turn with your hateful words."

 _Nail it in, Nardur. Get it done._ "My Lady, I only speak the truth," he said. "I have never meant you disrespect. You are a wonderful Queen, but the King does not only need a wonderful Queen; the King needs a Queen who can give him an heir." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I have had nothing to do with convincing him that this is true. I am sure that you, as well as anyone else who wanted to know, could have spoken with the Healers at the Houses about your condition—"

"My…my _condition_?"

"My Lady, you have been clearly faced with the fact that you were once with child, was poisoned, and now can bear no sons or daughters. You _are_ barren; the Healers know this, have even mentioned it to your husband on several occasions. Again, fact, _truth_ , not rumor. The King, after much time of knowing that this was true must have finally admitted it to himself as well and chosen her to carry the future heir."

"You…" she swallowed, her anger clawing at her insides, "you must think me _mad_ if you think I would ever believe—"

"Think of how similar you are! The Lady is an excellent choice; I even mentioned it to you weeks ago simply as conversation! The same dark hair, similar eyes, both beautiful elves. A union with the Lady Erumar would be so easy and make sense! Think of how clever it is! A child with _her_ ensures the throne will survive as she has borne children already, and since a child with you is impossible, he could lie with her and every citizen would think the child was _yours._ "

She stared at him, suddenly stunned into a silence so profound that he jumped into it, continuing with his point. "Look at how easy he made it for you; you would go into seclusion along with her after she became pregnant, she would bear the child, and then it would be _yours_. Elessar's son, even if by another union. I can understand how something like this might surprise you, but _you_ must understand that this is the only choice he could make that is sensible; Gondor _must_ come first! Your marriage, your wedlock, is important, but without an heir on the throne everything he has done is useless. He needed to produce an heir, and when wed to a woman who will forever be childless—"

" _Stop that_ ," she forced out, his words worming their way into her brain like she were some dead thing they could eat away. She tried to push back his words, but the logic in them, the logic that she had been telling herself for _months_ now, was undeniable.

"But you must _understand_ that to understand his choice!" he said. "The letter from Hildanir says nothing about loving you any less; you are still his wife, and he your husband. He intends to escort Erumar to Thranduil's kingdom as he said, but only after their union is—"

" _Stop!_ " she cried out, stepping back from him and glaring into his face, even with tears in her eyes. "I will _never_ believe what you speak!"

"But you _do_ ," he said gently. "You are too intelligent of a woman to know that this decision does not make sense and that he is well-within his right to make it. In fact, you even encouraged him to make it, did you not? It must have come up somewhere…"

She wanted to scream in pain, but she could _not_ believe him; she would never believe that Aragorn, her beloved who had pledged his life to her, had _wept_ with her over choosing her over a child, had said that he would _hang_ Gondor and give it all up to be with her, would _ever_ betray her in this way…and never with one of her dearest friends. _Never._

"You are a poisonous _snake_ ," she hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits. "I will never believe a word of your lies. I will _never_ betray my husband's character by believing any letter, or any words, that come from another person's mouth, especially yours. Only Ilúvatar knows if those letters you received came from Hildanir in the first place," she accused. "May Ilúvatar tear out your tongue for the lies you have invented, in written _or_ in spoken word!"

"I have not lied to you," he stated again. "You came to me tonight to seek the truth, and I am giving it to you."

"No," she said, suddenly realizing what she had _really_ come here for. "No, I came not to seek the truth, but to accuse you, to _threaten_ you."

" _Threaten_ me?" His voice was incredulous.

"These rumors about my husband end here and now. There will not be one more word about infidelity; the King would never perform such a deed—"

"You know him that well?"

"His character is irrefutable! It always was, and it always will be! From this moment on, if one word comes from a member of the Council that slanders his name, I will make sure they are thrown into the stocks; I will make it punishable to slander the King. I do not know what you hoped for when you conjured this plan, but I will never think ill of my husband— _never_. I would never believe the words of a man who has done nothing but demean me over the words of a man who has loved me for nearly a hundred years. Nothing you say will ever change that. I _demand_ that you apologize for your words."

He stared at her, his eyes sad. "I will apologize, Evenstar, because you ask it of me. But—"

"That is enough," she said, looking hard at him. "If there is one more rumor, one more word spread around about my husband in relation to the Lady or a hint at unfaithfulness, I will personally and publically denounce you, and then remove your seat from the Council myself."

His eyebrows rose in stunned disbelief, and then narrowed at her. "You have not the—"

"Authority?" she said, stepping forward to confront him. "Do I not? I am the Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, second only to my husband in the law. When you pledged an oath to Gondor, and I married your King, that oath came to me as well. You will lose all your power, Nardur. Do _not_ threaten me. No longer will you be a shadowy presence sowing dissent and discord in the darkness. You are _finished_ as of tonight. _Good night, my Lord_."

She turned away and strode across the throne room, throwing open the doors to Ecthelion and vanishing out of them. He stood completely still, waiting until the door closed. The most evil of smiles came upon his face as he thought of all he had done to reach this point, and what he had yet to do.

"No, no," he muttered to himself. "You have some fire, Evenstar, but I have you now…oh _yes_. I wish I could tell you that it is best to say your goodbyes; you do not have much time left." His eyes narrowed. " _You little bitch_ ," he spat. "I'll show you what it means to threaten to take power from _me._ "

It was _done_ now. If she was going to threaten him with expulsion from the Council, she was going to face death by his hand. _No one_ threatened him, not like this, so openly, so boldly. Erumar could be the new Queen for all it was worth now.

He began to openly plot to take her life from that moment on.


	38. Chapter 38

Breathing _hurt_.

Aragorn did not move when he became conscious. He lay very, very still, unsure if he was awake or half-asleep. His right arm and chest were wave after wave of agony, every breath excruciating, stabbing pain. He was shirtless and sweating, the latter from the throbbing of his body. Was he alive? He _had_ to be…heaven was not a place where he imagined there would be pain or that he would be unable to move.

He carefully opened his eyes and saw white blurring. He blinked. And blinked again. Finally, the image became clearer—a tent canvas. He was inside, no longer on the battlefield where he had been attacked by the… _oh_ …no _wonder_ his right side was in such pain; the warg and the orc…he could remember that now, and screaming and…that familiar brush of Arwen before he lost it completely.

"Aragorn?"

That was Erumar's voice; she must be sitting on his left side. He made to turn his head and gave up almost immediately, the first from pain firing down the muscles in his neck to his shoulder, the second from an exhaustion he did not think he could ever feel. Part of him did not believe he was actually awake—he was in such incredible pain that he had thought that if anyone _were_ in this much pain, they would faint. That clearly was not the case. He felt her hand on his forehead as he blinked again, her thumb rubbing his skin, and then he saw her blurry face as she leaned over him.

"Look over here," she said gently. "This way, _mellon_." He blinked again, trying to clear his head and drag his lazy eyes to meet hers. "There you are. I have water for you."

She did not attempt to lift his head, but he did drink carefully, first wetting his lips and then his severely dry mouth and throat. It was painful to swallow, but that was nothing compared to the roaring in his chest. As she leaned back, he attempted to curl his left fingers. He could do it…but he felt as though his hand was made of stone. He heard the tent flaps move.

"Erumar, how is he?" That was Hildanir.

She turned to smile at him. "He only just woke."

There was another brushing of the tent and yelling outside, " _The King is awake! The King is awake!_ " There was a shout from those around and cheers of joy and gratefulness to the One.

Aragorn did not feel like shouting for joy at the moment, but he did thank Ilúvatar that he was alive. "Where are we?" he murmured, his lips barely moving. Because there was no other sound, she heard him. Gently wiping his face and then neck with a wet cloth, she leaned back over him.

"We followed the Celduin back to the Easterling camp," she replied. "You are in a tent within the tree line. The men have been taking turns guarding you. It has been three days since the attack; you have been unconscious and unmoving for all of them."

 _Three days?_ "That is…a long time."

"You scared us all half to death," she said honestly. "You lost so much blood, Aragorn. In fact, you are still pale, and certain to be very weak."

His eyes closed and opened slowly. "I can barely move."

"You almost lost your arm," she told him softly, honestly. "It took me nearly an hour to remove all of the broken chain mail from your shoulder and chest."

"I did not…expect to be alive…" he admitted slowly. She gave him a little more water.

"When that warg picked you up and swung you around as a chew toy…" she stopped and looked away from his eyes, biting her lip. Finally, she whispered, "I thought for certain I was going to be forced to return to Minas Tirith and bear the news to Arwen myself."

"Thank Ilúvatar for…his miracles."

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No," he said and he slowly took a breath. Again, she laid her hand on his forehead.

"Are you in much pain?" she asked worriedly.

"Terrible," he said, and she watched the agony cross his face.

"Perhaps I can get you some tea," she replied, and Hildanir reentered the tent.

"My Lord, we are so grateful to Ilúvatar that you are awake!" he said immediately. "Is there anything I can do for you? Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, Hildanir," he replied, delighted to see the man but so exhausted he could not put much feeling behind the words.

"Tea, I think," Erumar said, and Aragorn attempted to lift his hand but it fell.

"No…just…rest," he said, his eyes beginning to flutter. He could barely keep them open.

"Are you going back to sleep?" she asked him. He knew he did not have much time before he was unconscious again, so he asked a question instead.

"Ghashbûr?" Aragorn asked.

"Tauriel and the Easterlings have not yet returned, and Thranduil has not yet arrived." He tried to smile at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Please! You are half-alive and still have enough presence of mind to tease me? You are ridiculous."

Behind them, Ethring poked his head through the tent flaps and no one even noticed him.

"The Easterlings," Aragorn began, "are they…"

"They are safe and their people are so grateful for what we have done," Erumar replied. "The peace you have orchestrated and fought for is going to be accomplished. Many of the Gondorians are offering to travel with them and help them rebuild, by your leave, of course. There is to be a celebration tomorrow night."

"Though it is doubtful you shall be able to attend," Hildanir added.

Aragorn actually did smile then. "What…no dancing?"

Hildanir smiled back. "And I was worried you would not be yourself when you woke. Why was I worried?"

"Why were any of us worried?" Erumar asked wryly. Aragorn's eyes closed and she knew he was fading fast.

"Hildanir," he attempted, "did you—"

"All of our soldiers are accounted for," he replied, knowing what he meant. "Most of the bodies are burned, but we were so worried about you that we left many orcs on the field of battle. I am afraid now that they are carrion for the vultures and wolves."

"You did what…you could."

Erumar stroked his face as Hildanir nodded. "There will be time to talk about such things later when you are recovered. For now, heal and rest."

He was already out. Ethring cleared his throat and the two of them swiveled around to look at him, Hildanir's hand on his sword hilt. Ethring held up his hands in a mercy gesture. "I heard the announcement. How is the King?"

"Tired," Hildanir said, relaxing, "but alive and himself. He is already asleep again."

Ethring sighed, his eyes worried. "That was not long."

"No, but he needs rest," Erumar said with a smile. "Did you need something, Ethring?"

He shook his head. "I only wished to see that the King was well for myself." His eyes caught on Erumar's hand stroking his face. "Will you be staying at his side, my Lady?"

"For now," she replied, "until night falls or someone more skilled than me can take my place." She lifted her eyes to Hildanir. "I think it might be a good idea, while the King is resting, to change these bandages. Can you please find Eldarn for him? I could use his help."

"Of course," he replied. As he stepped back outside the tent, he caught Ethring's arm. "Will you remain on guard for the King as I search for Eldarn? I should not be long."

"Of course," he replied, and he took up the post.

There could have been no one more perfect than the man who was searching for ways to get close to the King. Oh, he had a plan…a _devious_ plan. If he could be on guard at night, he would be able to find a way to get Elessar _and_ Erumar to inhale the drug, thereby making both of them mad for each other. Obviously, it was not the greatest idea to do such a thing when Elessar was so sorely injured, but when else could he _possibly_ have the amount of time or be in a place where the King would be lying prone for several hours? If he waited until he was healed, who knew what could interfere by that time? This was _perfect_! All he had to do now was get Hildanir to allow him guard duty at night for the King, and everything would be ideal. After that, he would make his move. The two of them would be in bed together before they could blink, injury or not.

* * *

Four days after Aragorn's injury, Enguina found herself at the King's House half-lying on the divan while Arwen sat on the floor, several wrapped packages between them. Legolas had been asked to get some fresh baked goods from her favorite seller, and he was happy to allow the two friends the time to talk without him. Enguina was opening the first one and rolling her eyes at Arwen.

"Honestly, I _told_ you we have enough," she said as Arwen shrugged. " _Truly_ , I was serious. We have so much stuff I will have to pack it all on a donkey to bring it home!"

"Enguina, all of these were things I already was working on. I did not _buy_ any of them," she stated. "And beside that, he is a Prince…he should be the best dressed little babe." She smiled. "And what does it matter if you need to get a donkey to carry it back? There will be a donkey for your little baby."

"We already have a pony for him from Gimli," she said and finished opening the package. "Oh, these two are simply beautiful!" She held up two outfits, the little yellow dress and the tunic and little pants for the boy. "You finished them!"

"I told you that nothing was new."

She laughed and set them aside as Arwen gave her another. "You did, but I never believe you. You are so giving when it comes to things like this. I do not know when you made the time, Arwen." The second package held the pull-toy that Arwen had carved out of wood; it was a mûmakil, with a long trunk that moved when dragged. It was not painted, but that made it all the more beautiful and Enguina marveled at it.

"This is like a drawing," she said, "or a painting; it is so beautiful!" She turned it around in her hands a dozen times, looking at it from every angle. "Arwen, I had no idea you were so skilled a carver!

"On small things," she said, shaking her head. "The bigger they are, the detail is lost. I hope that he or she will enjoy it. Cirgon helped me with the moving trunk."

"How wonderful! I am sure they will play with it every day!" Enguina said.

"Here, this is a toy as well," Arwen said, smiling, and she handed Enguina another.

"You said these were supposed to be gifts I knew about," she added as she began to unwrap it.

Arwen shrugged. "Well, you did not know about this, and you are simply going to have to accept it anyway. Think of it as a celebration gift for being eight months pregnant." A soft and squishy lamb rolled out of the paper and she squealed, scooping it up and pressing it to her cheek.

"Oh! I _love_ it! Can _I_ keep it?" she laughed. Arwen laughed, too.

"What do you need it for? You have Legolas!"

Enguina rubbed it against her cheek. "Oh it is too soft! Too wonderful! What is it, lamb's wool?"

"Alpaca," she replied. "It came from Dol Amroth."

"Oooo," she said, rubbing it through her hands. "I have a blanket made out of this wool from there; Legolas bought it for me on our wedding celebration. It is far too warm, but it is so soft and delightful." She grinned. "Legolas and I have made love on that blanket a number of times! I wonder where _that_ great idea came from."

Arwen laughed. "Well, I hope your babe enjoys the lamb as much as you." She leaned forward and set the last package in Enguina's lap. "This one is not from me."

Enguina gasped. "Is this the _story?_ " Arwen smiled as Enguina began immediately unwrapping, Aragorn's book falling out onto her lap. "Oh Ilúvatar…this is…" She was speechless as she flipped through the pages, Aragorn's drawings on every page, his beautiful script in the language of the Eldar.

"He asked me to wait to give it to you until you were going home," Arwen added, as Enguina studied the book in silent awe. "When I found out you were not leaving, I decided to wait until I was finished with my gifts. He worked so many late hours on it and any spare time he could."

"There is…there is more than one story?" Enguina's voice squeaked out in surprise, tears in her eyes as she saw who was featured. "It…it is about me?"

"The first story was supposed to be a fairytale," Arwen explained. "The second was the truth of your story, how you and Legolas came to be—obviously, not told exactly as it happened, but with similar elements. The last is a story about a boy and his horse. Aragon wanted an excuse to draw horses, I think. I hope you like it."

"I am…I am speechless," she replied, swallowing. "It is so beautiful. You are both so talented! I hope that when you do have a child," she said, "I can take the time to make them something wonderful as you have done for mine."

"Speaking of children," Arwen said, "I do have one final gift. I would like you and Legolas, when you _do_ finally travel to Ithilien, to take the rocking horse with you."

"No."

"Before you refuse, hear—"

"No, no, no." Enguina shook her head forcefully. "That was a gift from Faramir to you both before I even _knew_ him. Legolas and I will not accept it. Leave it here for your child, please."

"Aragorn and I want it to be used, treasured and loved by someone who will enjoy it. Please, Enguina, it is not permanent." She looked at her seriously. "I _want_ you to have it so your child will play on it. Until we have our own, it could be yours."

"Arwen—"

"I know what you are thinking," she said, and Enguina could tell she was not pretending, "but I am not being rid of it so that I can stop looking at it, though that would be an added benefit, I will not lie. Aragorn and I do believe it should be used, not collecting dust."

"When did you talk to Aragorn about it?"

"Before he left," she admitted. "Why do you ask? You do not believe me?"

"Of course I believe you!" she said, rolling her eyes. "But it does not matter anyway. I am sorry, Arwen, but no, I could not possibly. It was a gift for _your_ child. I cannot accept it."

Arwen nodded. "I understand." Enguina was quiet as Arwen began picking up the paper.

"Are you…angry? Upset?" she asked and Arwen laughed.

"No, Enguina," she said, rolling her eyes. "I really did want your child to have it for a while. It _is_ a rocking horse; it should be used."

"Well…when we come and visit you," she said, raising her eyebrows. "He could ride it then."

Arwen nodded. "That sounds like a fine idea."

"You mentioned Aragorn…" Enguina began and then hesitated, unsure how to continue.

"I have felt him," she said softly in response. "Today, in fact, for a brief moment. He was in pain, but he sent me…peace. He is unwell, wounded…but he is recovering."

Enguina sighed and relaxed visibly. "Oh, praise Ilúvatar. I know that you as well as Legolas and myself have been praying continually the last few days. I am so glad to hear that he is safe, out of danger. I hope Erumar is with him."

"I…am sure she is." Arwen's stomach turned over and she shoved that thought away. One snake's words were not going to play on her mind; she was not going to let it. She lifted her head and gave Enguina a smile. "So, are you and Legolas going to celebrate that you are eight months?"

"Arwen, I have been eight months for two days now," she laughed.

"I know," she replied. "But are you?"

"He is buying me muffins…" she said, and then she smiled. "But I _am_ hoping to have a more… _private_ celebration, if you know what I mean…at some point when I am not so tired and the baby can sleep through the night." Arwen smiled as she sighed. "This past month has been very long, indeed."

"How are you feeling now, by the way?"

"A little better. The baby has been pushing around in the last few minutes. I feel a constant need to relieve myself." She laughed, blushing. "It seems like I was only _just_ there!"

Arwen smiled. "That is the way of something trying to take space in your body when there was not space for it before." She studied Enguina's belly, allowing herself to imagine for just one moment what it would have been like had she been able to reach her eighth month. Then she forced the thought away and continued to smile. It was too late.

Enguina reached out and covered her hand, looking at her seriously. "Are you still all right with this?"

Arwen appeared confused. "All right with what, Enguina?"

"Legolas and I staying here to have the child. You can tell me if it would be easier on you to—"

"No," she said firmly. "That would be a thousand times worse."

"Because you would feel guilty," Enguina said for her, but then she kept going. "Arwen, how do you think I feel? Sometimes I feel as though I should not talk about the baby around you, or that Legolas is…sometimes inappropriate when he…talks to the baby…" Arwen knew she was referring to him kissing her.

Arwen looked away from her eyes, feeling absolutely miserable. "I do not want you to feel that way…to feel uncomfortable because of me, to feel awkward around my feelings. I want you to be happy; you _should_ be happy. Anything less is wrong, and I know you feel that way because of me. I am so…sorry."

"It is not because of _you_ ," she said, squeezing her hands more tightly even as Arwen sought to pull away. "It is because you are hurting; I do not want to cause you more pain. That is not your fault."

"I survived the birth of Éowyn's child," she said softly. "I should be able to…handle this."

"Aragorn was here then," Enguina said gently.

Arwen lifted her gaze. "It would be worse if I sent you away. You and the child would be all I would be thinking of, and I would never forgive myself. No, in Minas Tirith you will stay." She smiled. "Just…try to ignore me. I will be all right."

Enguina looked horrified. "I will _not_ try to ignore you. Stop that! As if you ignored me when I was in pain!"

"You are right, of course," she replied. She had nothing else to say.

"Have the dreams been less? You still look—"

"Sometimes," she said, "and yes, I am still tired. This has been a tough month for both of us." She gave her a smile. "I believe things will be better soon though. I must believe, yes? Yes! We shall both get more sleep this month."

Enguina grinned, but rolled her eyes. " _Why_ does that seem like wishful thinking?"

* * *

 _Hey Ho! I see her dancing there!_

 _Hey Ho! Not a worry or a care!_

 _Barman, lemme have more ale on tap!_

 _Hey Merry Mary come dance on my lap!_

The celebration was in full swing and Easterlings and Gondorians were carousing together, very much enjoying themselves. There was loud inappropriate music though no drink, which the elves that were present much decried. However, all rose above and enjoyed themselves, except the King of Gondor, who was nearby resting in his tent and Garm, who was his guard at the moment. Ethring was to be the guard for the King in two hours, so everything had to be in place by then. He was prepared; he had already begun his plan for the King, unbeknownst to Garm and Hildanir. The unsuspecting King was already inhaling the drug as he lured Erumar a bit of a distance from camp. Like an incense, he was burning it within the King's tent; when Erumar woke him, it would already be in his mind. Her seduction would take moments. The burning was a longer way for it to work, but that was good. He needed time to get Erumar to do exactly what he needed her to and when. He had convinced her away from the party where she had been enjoying the company of Hildanir, Eldan, and several other Easterlings. After drawing her out under the guise of speaking with her in some quiet, they were among the trees alone, not far from his own tent, and little did she know, the place where he had been leading her.

"It was nice to speak with you for a little while, Ethring," Erumar said with a smile. "I was thinking of looking in on the King one last time before I turn in. Today was long, and it is quite late. I should probably turn back."

"Not yet," he replied. "Besides, this is far enough, I think."

She thought that a strange thing for him to say, but when he turned toward her there was a look in his eye that she could only recognize as ominous. She shifted her weight back involuntarily.

"The rest of the group will be looking for—"

"No one will look for us," he said, and he drew closer to her. She took a step back, but she realized as soon as she did that she should have run first. His hand closed around her upper arm, only tight enough to keep her there. "I needed to speak with you, Erumar."

He had dropped the 'Lady,' and that should have worried her. "I thought we were already speaking, Ethring," she said, her voice full of distrust. "What was so important that we needed to come away from the others? And…why are you holding my—"

"Gondor has need of your services."

"Gon…what?" she asked, and in her confusion, he could sense that she was preparing for flight.

"Let me explain," he began, making sure his hold on her was tight enough to prevent escape but not tight enough to make her fear him. "I am a citizen of Gondor, a Lieutenant with the guard, and a liaison with the High Council of Minas Tirith. I have sworn an oath of fealty, allegiance, and service to the Reunited Kingdom and her King, to do anything necessary to preserve and protect her in the time to come. Have you ever taken such an oath?"

She shook her head. "I am a citizen of no kingdom now as Lórien has faded, and I owed it no allegiance, as you speak. I am no soldier."

"I have come to understand in my time serving as a soldier of Gondor that my oath often means I may have to do something that I do not wish in order to see the glory of Gondor preserved. I would do _anything_ to ensure the safety of the throne and the King Elessar upon it." He looked directly into her eyes. "Do you understand?"

"I understand that statement, but I…am _confused_ by it. Why are you telling me this? Do you perceive me as a threat? I _assure_ you, Ethring, I—"

"You are no threat, Erumar," he stated. "You told me not days ago that you would do almost anything to repay the debt that you owe the King. Did you mean that?"

She hesitated, her mind racing. "Of course! Though I—"

"Then, I tell you that Gondor is in need of a great service from you," he stated.

She stared at him. "If _Gondor_ is in need of a great service, then why are _you_ telling me?"

"I should correct myself. The _King_ is in need of a great service of you."

"Why would Aragorn not ask me himself?"

"There are moments when even the King cannot see that he requires some aid to accomplish the ends that both he and the Council wish. Elessar, especially in this case, does not realize that he needs this service done _for_ him, instead of _by_ him." He sighed. "In fact, I know he does not wish it, but he truly has no choice in the matter. Someday, he will see that; for the good of Gondor, it needed to be done." He looked into her eyes again, and his grip tightened on her arm in his fervor. "You are uniquely placed and perfect for this duty. Come with me."

He half-led, half-dragged her in the direction of his tent; she followed unwillingly, still confused. When she figured out where they were going, she planted her feet. "Ethring, I will not go one more step until you give some clarity on this matter. How am I perfectly placed for this duty? What are you _talking_ about?"

"Your friendship with the King is close, warm; you have known each other for years. You are also perfectly made, an elf originally from Rivendell. Nothing could be better planned or more perfect; the King will be unable to refuse you."

She shook her head, staring at him. "I am more confused than I was before! What _exactly_ is Gondor asking me to do that involves the King agreeing to something he would not normally agree to? I will not convince him of something that is against what I believe, what I feel _he_ believes."

"It is not a question of asking," Ethring told her, pulling her closer to him, "it is something he must do. Elessar _needs_ this, he knows he does, yet he will not do what is necessary to make it so. Therefore, you are going to help him do what needs to be done. This very night, you will seduce the King, and lie with him; he will be intimate with you, aiding both him and Gondor in one night. You will have saved the Reunited Kingdom from slipping back into the darkness of a realm waiting for a king."

The muscles in her arm flexed as she blinked once…twice. Her brow furrowed. "Forgive me, Ethring…I must be stupid. I think I misunderstood—"

"No, you heard correctly. You will go to his tent and seduce him, lead him to bed you—"

Disbelief was her only defense at the moment. " _What?_ Why would you think I would _ever_ —"

"Erumar, you must have noticed the lack of a child! Our Queen is barren; even the Healers in the Houses have said as much. The King desperately needs an heir; there was nothing more visible than when he almost lost his life four days ago from the warg! He _must_ have an heir. His honor towards his wife is commendable, but he must see _reason_. This is the only way. Only you can give him an heir."

Her eyes went wide and the muscles in her arm hard-coiled as she began to pull away. "Are you _mad_? You _must_ be mad! To think that I would—"

"You must!" he snapped at her. "For the sake of the Reunited Kingdom and King Elessar—"

She snarled in disgust and tried to break his hold on her, yanking on his fingers. "Let _go_ of me! How _dare_ you!"

"I dare because I must! Gondor needs an heir!" He held on more tightly.

"Gondor _needs!_ " she spat. "Who _are_ you? Your senseless council says the Queen is barren, but they are _wrong_. Foolish men cannot seem to understand other races; elves have difficulty bearing children! The Evenstar is no different! It will simply take _time!_ Let _go_ of me, Ethring!" She yelled the last and yanked hard on her arm, stabbing down into his hand with her nails.

"The King has no time! You must see sense yourself, Erumar," he replied as she tussled with him. "The Queen _is_ barren; even the _King_ —"

She struck him across the face suddenly, hard; his grip broke on her as his chin snapped to the side and she yanked back, pulling her arm free and attempting to bolt between the tents. She made it exactly three strides before Ethring grabbed her elbow and twisted her left arm towards him fiercely, up and behind her back. Her shoulder and arm had healed from the stoning, but this brought back the memory of that pain. She made to scream for help and he wrapped a strong arm across her throat, cutting off her breath. She clawed at the arm around her throat but he ignored her, towing her backward into his tent as she stumbled along.

"You listen to me, Erumar," he growled in her ear. "No one expects you to become the King's new wife. The expectation is that you submit to the Reunited Kingdom and bear the King a child; I did not expect you to come along willingly. I knew you too well for that." She struggled and he lifted her elbow in a position that made her shoulder scream. "I dislike this," he added, releasing her throat a bit now that they were inside, "but know that if it is necessary, as a soldier of Gondor, I can _seriously_ hurt you.

"Now, all you need do is simply bear him a child that he can return to Minas Tirith with; the Queen will go into seclusion and pretend it was hers all along. A perfect solution. You and the Queen are so similar the people will never notice any difference. Your sacrifice is required; what is a bit of the loss of your honor in the grand scheme of the world?"

If she was facing him, she would have spat in his face. " _Go to the Pits of Melkor, you selfish—_ " Her rant was cut short by her shout of pain as Ethring twisted her arm.

"I will do whatever is necessary, Erumar," he said in her ear, "and so will you. Repay your debt to Gondor."

"I owe _Aragorn_ a debt; I owe _Gondor_ _ **nothing**_!" she snarled through her pain. "Even if you forced me to do this, which you cannot, Aragorn would never betray Arwen! And I would _die_ first! I will not commit adultery for the council's whims!"

"There is no need for anyone to die," he told her. "The Council knew that you would not willingly do this, so they provided a way. You are going to voluntarily inhale an aphrodisiac; so will the King, though he will do it unknowingly. You will then easily submit to him, or have him submit to you; either way, he will not be able to resist you…and both of you will enjoy it immensely."

She wrenched forward at his words and he pulled up harder, her muscles screaming; she had to stop trying to get away before he broke her arm.

"I will _not_!" she choked out, tears springing to her eyes.

"Yes, you will," he said with a laugh, "because the drug you are taking will make you follow my instruction, and I will send you into the King's tent…and you _will_ seduce him, as aroused as you will be. Trust me," he laughed again, finally frightening her with his words, "I have seen this drug in action. You will not be able to control yourself. Which could be _very_ interesting indeed for _me,_ were I interested in committing adultery myself. I have been sorely tempted to try it out on you…" His breath touched her ear and she turned her head away, disgusted and terrified. "But I wanted to save you exclusively for the King. If you are to be his child-bearer, than that is what you should be."

"You do not know the consequences…" she stuttered, and he felt her breath catch. "You cannot know what you are doing! You will destroy them both, destroy _her_!"

"They have seen darker days," Ethring admitted, though Erumar began to cry openly then. "The Queen will understand that this is the only way for Gondor to survive. Everyone must make sacrifices, Elessar's his vows to his wife, and yours your honor, the Evenstar's the fidelity of her husband and a child of her own, and mine freedom." He knew this was what would happen; Erumar would not be silent after she came to from the drug.

" _Please…please, I beg you!_ " she pleaded brokenly. " _Please you cannot understand; this will kill her! The purity of their love is all they have!_ "

"Do not be afraid," he said to her, ignoring her words, and he forced her to her knees as she cried out when he dragged her down by her arm. She tried to pull away but his grip was so tight. He had released her throat and was doing something with his other hand. She tried to claw him, grab him, but he just yanked hard on her arm, causing her to squeal with agony.

" _Please_ , Ethring! Let me _go_!" she moaned aloud.

"No, I cannot do that unless you agree to take this of your own free will."

" _No! No!_ " She wrestled with him, tears on her face, and this time he released her arm and wrapped his around her throat. She struggled, now with both hands free, trying to get enough leverage. When he realized that she was much stronger this way, he cuffed her across the face twice, knocking her to the side and then leapt atop her, crushing her beneath his weight. He held her down with his legs and torso, holding her arms down with his knees. She wrenched back and forth underneath him, but could get nowhere; even slamming her knees into his back he could not be budged. He clamped his hand down over her mouth and her eyes bulged in fear; in his other hand was a vial of greenish powder.

"The councilman said that inhaling it is the fastest way, straight into the brain," he said. "You will not know what is happening until it is already over, so consumed by the power of the arousal you will feel, so you might as well just _breathe_." She thrashed beneath him, but the hand over her mouth held her head too still. Instead, she simply would not take a breath. Even in fear, she was defiant, and he could see it in her eyes as they fluttered with her lack of oxygen. She would sooner faint than betray them.

He rolled his eyes. "I knew you were stubborn, but this is bordering on the ridiculous. Well, if I must, I must." He slipped the vial between the fingers on his other hand, keeping it up against her nose. He raised the other and brought his fist down incredibly hard in the center of her chest. Her breath came out with a huff and then she could not help but gasp through her nose, the powder shooting through her sinuses.

The effect was nearly immediate; her eyes fluttered with the shock of the drug to her brain and she breathed in again, gasping on the double dose. He pulled back from her, corking the vial as she rolled onto her side, panting through her mouth as her hands began tearing at her eyes and cheeks, coughing, wheezing, and choking. She was writhing on the ground, her hands moving to her throat and chest, clutching and tearing at the same time.

His wife had not done that, though he had not had her inhale the drug but drink it, the slowest way into the bloodstream. He watched her, and was almost surprised at how crudely her body was moving, almost as though it was fighting for relief already. Watching her was almost like watching her dance for him, the provocative way her body was jolting on the ground was more intense than even he had expected, her breath was coming out in wheezes. He waited it out, unsure when she would stop or if she would—perhaps inhaling it so directly had been too much…

"What the _hell_!" he exclaimed as she began retching violently, her eyes rolling back into her head. He immediately leaned forward and dragged her back, noticing her hands and body were shaking forcefully as well. When he thought she was finished, he pulled her upright, her head lolling on her shoulders as though she were half-drunk. "Erumar, sit up," he said, now really worried. He could tell that she tried to respond to his command, but the drug in her brain was simply too much. One of her hands found his hip and he jolted back. "None of that," he said, shoving her hand down, "not with me." He pushed her back against the center pole of the tent and held her there.

Even though she was not speaking, it was clear that the powder was having an effect other than arousing her. Her skin was flushed, yes, but she was also trying to tear at her throat and chest, clear signs of distress, perhaps even pain. She had scratched her face and nose as well, and as she was against the pole, she was also trying to alleviate her arousal, trying to pull him towards her, trying to touch herself or him. After two minutes of trying to control her hands, to make her sit still, he gave up and tied her to the post, making sure her hands were tied as well. She was completely out of it as he tried to get her to respond to his statements, his words; she could not. Erumar was blind to everything but what she was feeling through the drug.

His wife had _not_ responded like this. He needed her to snap out of it. This was his one chance to get her with Elessar, and he only had little more than an hour before he needed to be at his post. Elessar would be ready, but as she began groaning, he wondered if Erumar would make it, her body breaking out in a sweat as she battled the effects of the drug, her breath coming out in pants. He was not sure if that was arousal or pain, even panic; he would have to wait her out, and pray that whatever was happening to her would not get any worse. He could not _fail_. His perfect plan could _not_ backfire.


	39. Chapter 39

It had been Arwen's idea to visit the horses tonight, but Enguina had been happy to do so. Right now, she was resting on a hay bale, rubbing up beneath Lómë's chin with her nails. He stretched out his neck so she could get back further towards his throat, and she obliged happily, letting him enjoy the scratching. Legolas laughed as he shook his head.

"Honestly, Lómë," Legolas said, "you would think she never pet you or did anything kind, and never came to visit." He was in the black's stall at the moment brushing him down; Brethil's head was over the wall between them so he could see the people he loved.

"Oh, they are all that way," Arwen said from across the aisle, and Enguina glanced over to see her sitting in the hay. Her fingers were tangled in Asfaloth's mane as she lay against him, her head pillowed on his back. The stall beside him was too obviously empty, so she tried not to look there; instead, she stayed focused on Asfaloth. "Brego will do anything to be touched anymore." Asfaloth snorted softly. "I did not say you, Asfaloth."

Enguina laughed. "I miss riding," she said. "I really probably should not now that I am eight months pregnant."

"Yes, I would heartily agree with that," Legolas said.

"Did you and Legolas find time to celebrate?"

Enguina sighed. "No, but perhaps later...I am certainly going to try."

Legolas leaned his head around Lómë. "What is this? What celebration were we having?"

"Oh, it was useless," Enguina groaned to Arwen, ignoring Legolas's question as she rubbed her belly with the hand not scratching her black horse. "The little rascal is intent on keeping me up at night. Goodness, I hope his days and nights get reversed before he is born or we shall be sleeping at strange hours of the day. And I am becoming positively _huge_ ," she continued. "I may not be able to fit into my shoes tomorrow or the next day—"

"You go without nearly all the time in Ithilien, my dove," he said, and he slipped under Lómë's gate in order to stand beside her. "And you are more beautiful than ever," he added, lowering himself to one knee so he could lay his hands beside hers. "You are supposed to be growing."

"I know," she replied, looking into his eyes; hers were tired. "Sometimes I just feel like…I am a barrel. I cannot get around as I did before; I cannot _do_ the things I did before. Sometimes, I just feel useless."

He reached up and touched her face. "You are the mother of my child," he said, raising an eyebrow, and bringing her hand to his lips, "therefore, you are the most important person in the world."

 _Bravo, Legolas; that was exactly what she needed to hear just then_. Arwen watched them kiss and then closed her eyes, smiling. She pictured Aragorn in her head, and _reached_ out to him. When she did, she knew he was asleep; that was fine. She caressed his dream and let him rest. He had not been in any less pain today than yesterday, and though that bothered her, she knew he was alive. She comforted him as best she could from such a distance, their unspoken feelings today a constant presence of hope; she rejoiced in the feelings that she did receive from him. _Thank you, Father, for reminding him of my love, and for caring for him when I cannot._

Asfaloth let out his breath, and she rubbed the point of his shoulder. "I am fine, Asfaloth," she whispered. "I am only worried about my beloved; that is all. I know Brego will carry him home safely, but I wish we were there with him to carry him home ourselves." He snorted and whuffled; though she had no idea what he had said, she imagined him agreeing with her. She nodded, and sighed as he nosed her gently. She reached over to stroke his face. "I know; it is long past time for sleep. Thank you, as always, for your comfort, mellon."

Arwen sat up and leaned forward to kiss the center of Asfaloth's forehead. She then rose to her feet and caught sight of the two lovebirds in quite a display of kissing; this barn clearly had such a way of making people forget where they were. She had to laugh and shake her head as she slipped out of Asfaloth's stall and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms.

"You two _seriously_ need to go home."

Legolas hardly moved, but Enguina startled, pulling back so fast that she hit Lómë's door with her head. "Ouch!" she said, and his hand immediately went up to cup her head.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said, looking over at Arwen, "it was only a bump, Legolas. Arwen, you startled me!"

"I noticed," she responded dryly. "But nothing surprises unflappable Legolas over there."

He laughed as he stood. "I had the presence of mind to realize where we were and what I was doing, but not an ounce of conscientiousness to care." He smiled. "I think I _am_ ready to go home and enjoy a more private celebration of Guin turning eight months pregnant." He extended his hand to Enguina and then drew her to her feet. "Unless Arwen, you were offended by our getting carried away, in which case I sincerely apologize for the bit of a display."

Arwen rolled her eyes. "Oh, _highly_ offended, Legolas."

He sighed. "I knew you would be. What can we do to make it up to you?"

She stepped up to his side as Enguina smiled at him. "Walk me home first, please?"

"How could one say no?" he asked, extending his arm. "I am walking the two most beautiful women in all of Minas Tirith, one to her home…and one to my bed."

" _Legolas_ …" Enguina chided him, blushing as she squeezed his arm. He waggled his eyebrows at her as he chuckled.

"You can say nothing about what I say around company here, Guin. Arwen is happy to see us happily married."

"Oh, you can say that again," Arwen laughed, but Enguina only shook her head. "Oh, Enguina, let him tease you. He finds such joy in it."

"Mmm…my husband, the unceasing flirt."

Legolas kissed her hand. "Never fear, my love. I shall never tire of finding things to tease you about. You _did_ say you intended to keep me forever, therefore…it is your own fault."

"I do remember you promising somewhere to be nice."

"That is true, but it was never specified when or how often I needed to be nice. And I have kept it for the most part anyway."

Their banter continued all the way back to the King's House with Arwen watching them, silently amused.

* * *

Garm had just left his position to head back into camp as Ethring took up the post before the King's tent. He was not about to stick his head inside to check on the King; he knew only too well the effects of the drug he was letting burn like incense in that tent right now, and he had no intention of letting that drug hold any sway over him. But he _could_ have…he could have seriously enjoyed one night with Erumar. Once he had known she was not going to die from the overdose of the drug, he had been able to relax, allowing it to let her brain down from the high, wherever it had been, before telling her to drink the liquid he had mixed for her. Even though it would take a bit longer, it would also _last_ a bit longer, and he was glad for that as well. He did not know how long it would take to wake the King and then seduce him, though he could not imagine it would take long. It certainly had not with Erumar.

When he had untied her, she had her wits about her at least, even while heavily drugged; the King would suspect nothing. He had instructed her to dress in the simple robe he had provided for her and then she was to go out into the woods and wait; once the guard shift had changed she was to enter the King's tent without acknowledging Ethring at all, forcing self-control all the while until within and with the King. He had not had any _intention_ of doing it, but he had not prevented himself from watching her as she had then slipped out of the dress she had been wearing that day, watching him all the while.

It was more seductive than anything his wife had ever done, and in a way, he believed that the elf was not doing it intentionally, especially as he had firmly instructed her on self-control until she was alone with the King. She had turned towards him, everything removed except her simple undergarment as she slipped the robe on over her arms and lifted her dark hair over her shoulders, and simply asked him, 'are you the one that is going to touch me and take this need away?' If he had a moment where he had wanted to abandon self-control, staring at her nakedness, that was it. He had forced himself to tell her to close her robe, that she would be with the man soon enough, and he was not it, and then he reminded her exactly what the purpose of her lying with the King was.

Even as he stood there now, outside the tent, he felt the shame of looking at her that way; yes, he had seen her in the river but this was different. She had quite literally asked him to bed her, and he _knew_ he would have in a second if he had not made this plan for the King to conceive a child. He was ashamed of his adulterous nature, even when he had never before been unfaithful to his wife. Although watching the King with his wife was certainly adultery as well. But all of this was for the good of Gondor! So right or wrong, it had to be done. And he intended, after Erumar came to the King, to make himself scarce for a few hours after he was certain that the two of them were…well, in bed with one another.

It was yet a few hours before dawn, and the party was still going on within the camp for those who wanted it to continue. No one would come here until Hildanir at dawn, and no one would be looking for Erumar either. He just had to be sure he was back before then and had removed all evidence of his deception with the King. There was nothing, he thought, as he watched Erumar silently come from the edge of the woods, that would protect him from the wrath of the King, and it would be terrible indeed. An heir to the throne, however, was worth the sacrifice of being tried and found guilty. What mattered was the heir, nothing else.

Just as he had instructed her, Erumar came straight to the tent and never acknowledged him, only glanced about to make sure she was not being followed or seen. She then slipped past him directly into the King's tent.

 _Bed him well, Erumar. Enjoy your one night with the King._

* * *

Aragorn woke very, _very_ slowly, as if waking into a mist or a haze. He had been dreaming, and this had been no ordinary dream. He had not dreamed about Arwen like _that_ since the first year they had been wed; it had been his first departure from her side, a hunting expedition with Faramir. He had been embarrassed to wake in such a state, having never had such a dream, such a vivid imagining of the woman he had wed making love to him. This was a dream much like that one; his mind's eye was clouded with an ache for her that could not possibly be filled, and he was craving her touch like nothing else. Indeed, it was not only her touch he was craving…it was her mouth on his throat, her body pressing down upon his, the pin-pricks of her nails digging into his shoulder blades—good heavens, he wanted it _now._ He could hardly comprehend the desire pouring through him; he found it difficult to breathe… _Lord, what brought this on?_ He hoped he was alone so no one would see him struggling to calm himself down.

His right arm brought him a bit back to reality; the pain was very real and very much present even when he was not moving it. It was only a shift of fabric at his side and the brush of fingertips against his right elbow that made him open his eyes, tilt his head to the right. Erumar was beside him in a robe that he did not recognize, her fingers tracing along his lower arm to his hand. He assumed it was meant for comfort, but for him, it burned an uncomfortable trail all the way down into his gut. He studied her seemingly without her knowing, part-embarrassed by his arousal from the dream he had been having, part-wondering if what he was feeling had not been brought on by her stroking his arm. He did not know what her eyes were focused on; he should have been more embarrassed, but it was difficult for him. There was so much desire in his brain and his exhaustion was such that it was difficult to fight a battle with it. She lifted her eyes to his face; hers were full of something that he did not understand…or _did_ very clearly…it was all so confusing! She was looking at him with an expression he had never seen on _her_ face...but had often seen on…another's…his wife's. He should have been concerned by that, but that did not reach him through the haze, and the embarrassment faded too. Erumar was a beautiful woman; sometimes he surprised himself that he did not admit how beautiful. There was nothing wrong with admitting that. And the robe she was wearing—where did she get it? He had never seen her wear anything like it. _What does it matter? She is beautiful, Aragorn. Focus on that instead._

"How are you feeling, Aragorn?" she asked him gently. There was an unfamiliar scent in the air, and…was there something seductive in the sound of her voice or was he only hearing things? He suddenly had a fleeting thought of…what _had_ he been thinking only moments ago? He swallowed around his tongue so he could answer her; he felt on-edge, even dizzy…or something else much more basic that he did not wish to name.

"I feel strange," he replied honestly, staring at her eyes and wondering why he had never noticed they were so intoxicating. She reached over and laid her hand upon his brow, both touching his skin and brushing back the hair that had fallen while he had slept. Her hand stayed, lingering on his face as she smiled. "You seem very relaxed. I was sorry to miss the celebration, and I do not know the time. Is it still going on?"

"Yes, and it is not yet dawn. Your people still rejoice and they are giving the Easterlings every bit of a Gondorian celebration, I am sure."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows at her. "I think _your_ people are better known for their celebrations than mine."

"Well, perhaps the more _private_ ones," she murmured, her hand following down his face and out along his chin. She felt him set his jaw, and she knew very well he was not angry. The same thing that was moving her was moving him. _Closer._ Something _pushed_ in the back of her mind, and she leaned in a little more, the edge of the robe falling open a bit to expose more of her chest—just enough to tease. Inexplicably, his eyes were drawn to the movement.

"Those, too," he agreed softly, and he did not even pretend not to stare as he slowly dragged his gaze back to her eyes. "Forgive me," he said, though what he was asking forgiveness for, he did not know. His mind was so… _cloudy…_ muddled. He felt hot, and it was not from embarrassment.

"Are you in pain?" she asked him, and he hesitated before saying yes. He did not want that to be her focus…he wanted _himself_ to be her focus, though again, where that thought came from, he could never have answered. His brain was telling him all sorts of _mad_ things just now, like pushing him to wrap a hand behind her neck and draw her close enough to kiss…just so he could see more of the smooth skin of her chest.

"I…my chest hurts," he replied, and she nodded.

"I think I might be able to help with that."

She lowered her hand from his chin to his throat, her fingers following his collarbone to his left shoulder and then down to his chest. He remembered, as an afterthought, that he was shirtless. All he was wearing was a pair of trousers…not even socks. Her eyes were not on his, but he watched her expression as she rubbed her hand gently along his skin, pressing carefully enough on his sternum to massage and not hurt, staying more to the left than to the right. His wounds were covered with cloths, but his right arm was bound to his side with a tie around his waist so it would remain immobile. She avoided that area as well, but carefully massaged everything that she could reach, her fingers slowly circling his breast. His heart rate increased…so did hers.

"How does that feel?" she asked, her tone low.

Aragorn nodded in response, but his teeth clenched as he tried to be decent, to keep his self-control. He then tried to shake his head to jar his drug-induced haze long enough so he could respond with what he really wanted to say, not what his mind was pushing him to say. "Something…feels strange…" he murmured. "Can you feel it, Erumar?"

She nodded as she moved her left hand to his chest, her right hand nearer his left ribs, tracing each one. His eyes did not leave her face and she lifted hers to him. "I do feel it," she replied. "I have…never felt this way before. I want to…touch you." Her voice was so soft, it was almost embarrassed and her hands slowed on his body. Her skin was as flushed as his was, and he took his left hand and touched her right elbow, moving her hand again on his chest.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, something was _whispering._ The trouble was that the whispering of right could do nothing to combat the yelling of the aphrodisiac that had taken over his mind. " _I want you to_ ," he answered gently. She continued at his wish, and as she leaned more forward, his eyes were drawn once again to the opening of the robe, this time, displaying the top of her breasts to him. He made no move to hide the fact that he was staring; if she had not wanted him to, she would have acted upon it.

Something told him to stop his hand, but he did not. Instead, it came up to her shoulder and cupped her face, rubbing his fingers against her neck and cheek before his thumb brushed her lips. She leaned down all the way then, as if it were some sort of signal, and pressed her lips gently to his. Her hand maneuvered along his breast, the other stroking his stomach.

What began as a gentle kiss became something that left the two of them struggling for breath; as soon as their lips touched fire engulfed their brains, as though they could never be put out. His fingers grew tight as his hand wrapped around the back of her neck; he wanted more. She gave it to him, her hands tightening on his body and she leaned into him, bracing herself against his chest.

His wound howled, but he fought it off as long as he could before he had to gasp aloud, breaking off from her lips. She placed a hand instead on the pillow beside his head, forcing her mouth back down on his as his fingers slipped beneath the collar of her robe, exploring just the beginnings of her supple shoulders. Her hand was still applying too much pressure to his chest and he groaned into her mouth, turning his head away to wince; he had intended to take her hand and remove it from his chest, but he did not want to remove his own hand from her skin, his brain awash with desire for her.

"Oh…" she murmured as she sat back a little, realizing she was paining him, "I will have to be more careful." She lowered her hand further and his eyes dropped from hers, looking straight down into her robe, leaving nothing else to imagine. Her eyes watched his and she shifted to allow him more of a view as her hands made their way down his body. She smiled; there was no doubt she had aroused him and she knew it.

His body jerked beneath her hands and he gasped in pain as he pulled his hip wound; but the pain faded—his mind was being consumed by the lust firing through him. He _wanted_ her, and it was clear she desired him as well. His hand went from her shoulder to tracing the outline of her robe, his fingers rubbing against her breast through the fabric.

" _Please_ touch me," she whispered, and she lifted one hand from him to untie the sash at her waist, shrugging the robe down her shoulders and exposing herself to him openly.

"You are beautiful," he said to her, and she lowered her eyes, half-lidded at him. The seductive look burned him through, and he could do nothing but desire her even more, flames licking at his brain. Their hands moved at the same time, his caressing her breast, hers returning to his lower body. He briefly noticed that she wore only a lower undergarment, and she leaned down to kiss him lengthily, their hands heatedly caressing one another.

It was only a few minutes of this before his hand began shaking with fatigue. He wanted nothing more than to keep touching her, completely driven by his desire for her, but he simply could not get his body to respond except from her touch. His hand lowered from her skin to his ribs, and she could see weakness and disappointment in his face. The exhaustion from the wound was clearly an issue.

"Please, Aragorn, do not stop," she whispered, bending over to brush her breasts against his chest, kissing him again. The touch was like a lightning strike, and he groaned aloud, his fumbling fingers catching on her ribs.

"Erumar," he whispered, "I want nothing more than to touch you. I _want_ to…but I do not see how I can." His eyes were conflicted, almost ashamed. "In this condition…I…do not know how I can please you. I do not know what I will be able to do…"

She shook her head, rubbing her lips against his. "Shh," she murmured, "do not worry." He watched her eyes as she suddenly swung over him, straddling him across the hips as her weight settled over him. She brought his hand from her knee to her thigh and then released him to touch her whatever way he could. After dragging her hands up his body, she rested them against his chest as she leaned down against him, kissing him again both rough and long; if she had kissed him any harder, she may have bruised his lips. Four doses of the drug and having him touch her the way he had been—it had all done her in. There was nothing in her mind except the intercourse now; make it happen, bear the King a child. The wounds in his hip, his chest, _roared_ from her weight and the pressure from her hands, but he ignored them, too far gone now, the lust embedded in his brain, the drug still pouring through the tent like incense.

"I will take care of everything," she whispered, bowing her head down so her teeth met his ear, her breasts brushing his chest with every move. The left hand that had been caressing her thigh now gripped it as she pressed herself down hard upon him, shifting her hips against his groin. "Let me give you what you want; let me give you your desires… _all of them_." She nibbled his ear and his body began to tremble under her. "I can give them to you, Aragorn, every last one: passion, love, desire, a child…whatever you want, it is yours. _Let me fulfill the greatest desires of your heart._ "

* * *

 _The dark-haired woman's blurry face stared down into her husband's eyes, her gaze full of lust, her eyes so close as she rubbed her lips against his, her hand between his legs._

" _Shh," she murmured, "do not worry." The dark-haired woman shifted over him as her full weight settled over his body, straddling him across the hips where her hands had been. Lust and desire, strong and fueled more intensely by the moment, flooded his brain; pushing him further into darkness. There was pain, too, but it was nothing compared to this desire for the dark-haired woman. There was nothing but the heat of her body on him, her lips kissing him roughly as she dragged his hand to her thigh and then released him as he took hold of her on his own, her teeth on his sensitive ear._

" _I will take care of everything," she whispered, her eyes becoming clear. "Let me give you what you want; let me give you your desires…all of them. I can give them to you, Aragorn, every last one: passion, love, desire, a child…whatever you want, it is yours. Let me fulfill the greatest desires of your heart."_

 _Her husband nodded and she, the dark-haired woman, smiled, rocking her body easily, perversely against him, her breasts the focus of his attention. Her mouth came to his again as her hands gripped his sides and her nails scratched his chest. His head twisted as he ignored the pain in his shoulder even though it was all-consuming, he needed her…he needed her desperately. Only she could give him what he wanted, desired, just as she had said…only she who was here right now in his arms…only she…the dark-haired woman…the dark-haired…_

 _Erumar…Erumar…_

Startled, Arwen fell from the divan, crying out as she hit her head against the floor. She groaned, holding her neck as she pulled herself to her feet using the divan to stand, her breath coming out in short gasps. Wiping the sweat from her face, she felt physically sick, the dream rolling around through her mind; Erumar's face finally becoming visible in the dark-haired woman's, what she had been dreading now for days. This dream felt _different_ somehow, the residual desire and pain flooding her as though it had been _real_. It _had_ been different; this was clinging to her like a shroud, like some evil, indecent thing, fluttering in her thoughts, in her heart. Her chest was heavy, as if she were trying to breathe through a thick fog.

 _No_ …she had settled this within herself days ago, after arguing with Nardur. She would not listen to these dreams, these fears; she would _fight_ them! No one was going to tell her that her beloved, her _everything_ would seek passion, a child, in the arms of another. Especially not Erumar…not Erumar, her friend. No, it was impossible. He would never hurt her that way; Aragorn simply was not capable of such deception and treachery. Her stomach coiled in on itself; wave after wave of nausea washing inside her. She needed a drink of water, and she stumbled a few steps toward the kitchen before she had to catch the wall to prevent herself from tumbling to her knees.

The barrage was sudden, Aragorn's unconscious reaching to her as if he had slapped her across the face and shouted: _LISTEN_ _ **!**_ Her eyes closed with the onslaught of images and feelings that came to her: Erumar's face, Erumar's lips touching his throat, her breasts pressing and pushing his chest, his hand clutching her hip as she ground herself against him as perversely as she had in the dream! _It had been a dream! A dream!_ _ **NO! It was a dream!**_

She retched suddenly, unable to even think enough to attempt to stop herself. All she felt was what was coming to her through her bond with Aragorn—denial was impossible. What she had been feeling was _real_ ; it was happening _right now_. She could not breathe, the images and feelings still continuing; she _felt_ him…she _felt_ his lust, his desire, an absolute animal magnetism that was swirling around inside him. Her whole body began to shake as she tried to hold herself to the wall but could not; her mouth opened in a silent scream but no sound came out as her hands reached up to grip her head as it pounded with pain, _agony,_ threatening to rip her apart!

It did.

Her heart, her world, shattered around her. Her knees buckled abruptly and she dropped to the floor, her nails snapping and fingers jamming as she tried to catch herself on the wood, her head spinning so hard with nausea that she had to hold it between her hands as she fell forward, pressing her face to her knees. She could not get breath but her chest heaved anyway, her whole body trembling with overwhelming, unbearable _grief_. Falling sideways into the wall, her head hit hard, and she dropped her hands to her chest, clutching her breast _painfully_ as she tried to hold it together.

Her own wail sounded on her ears as though she had left her body behind; she tried to remember to breathe normally—she could not. The great rent in her chest was widening even as she tried desperately to hold it together, her body rocking back and forth as she hit the wall forcefully with her back as her body writhed over and over with the excruciating pain in her chest. _She could not breathe!_ She dropped onto her side, her hands tearing at her breast, her hair, her face, the floor—making her nails bleed, breaking her skin. Her body curled into itself, her knees coming towards her chest; the desire to never feel or see anything ever again was so great that she severed every last connection in her mind with the one who had brought her this pain, had destroyed her heart. His desire shut out, his images shut out, all she felt instead was agony and grief and a terrible, terrible emptiness that would never again be filled. She felt nothing she was doing to herself, only the incredible pain in her chest. She did not even hear the wail of grief coming from her own mouth.

It was the beginning of the end of everything.


	40. Chapter 40

A great rent of anguish tore its way through Aragorn's heart and he felt as though someone had slammed a fist in the center of his chest; he could hardly breathe. It wormed its way through the desire in his brain, driving a wedge into place between it and the rest of his intelligent self. But the desire was _so_ strong; it fought back with a snake's persistence, vying for control of his actions.

Erumar was above him as he opened his eyes, her hips moving insistently against him as she held his hand against her breast, his fingers were still moving without him telling them so. His mind was having a hard time catching up with whatever his body was doing. Something…was not right…something was telling him… _someth—do not listen! This is better! Feel her against you; this is what you want!_

She leaned over suddenly to kiss him as her fingers groped around his waist for his belt. "Let me give you everything you want," she whispered urgently into his ear, her thighs gripping his hips so tightly he grimaced at the stabbing pain. "Tell me your desires. I can bear you the son you need…let me make love to you…"

Something punched him hard in the gut at her words and he struggled for breath, this time in his own head against the fog clouding his brain. It tried to drag him down again and pull him under, but he began forcing it back, piece by piece. _A child? A…son?_ Talk of an heir that must be…the council wanting him to take another wife…another wife? No…he would _never_ …not against… _Arwen…Arwen would bear him a child…what did he…what was he…where was Arwen? What was_ _ **happening?**_

He felt sensations as though he were out of his own body, his heart rolling in the sudden panic of his mind as he felt his hand upon velvety skin, parts of a body pressed against his, hips rolling over his thighs, a hand tugging at his belt…

He tried to recoil, felt unbelievable pain as he tried to shift and then his eyes snapped open, taking in the sight of Erumar atop him, her body exposed to his eyes. The lust returned and flooded his mind a hundred-fold, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in the drug again. _No! No! This cannot be!_

His hand pulled away from her breast and he gripped her hand as the belt came undone and he pulled her forward towards him, their hips realigning as she fell forward with his sudden strength. He had been about to say her name, but it came out as a stutter when his body jolted and her hand came down to catch herself from falling onto his chest. He cried out, hardly able to breathe, but the pain helped yank him out even more from under the arousal that was dragging him back under like quicksand.

"Do not try to stop this," she said, resting her hand beside his head as she leaned down to kiss him. "We both want it." The weight off his wound, he gasped as he tried to force his body to obey his will. Her hands began to wander but he held tight to her one wrist.

" _Erumar_ , no… _no…_ " he groaned, shaking his head, trembling, " _this…this is wrong…_ "

"How can it be wrong?" she replied, her voice still low, and she sounded so much like Arwen in that moment that he nearly lost his mind back to the drug. "How can something that feels like this be wrong? You want it…you want _me_ , and I want you…"

"This is wrong," he said again, but he tripped over the words, gritting his teeth. "What…what is happening? Get…get off, please… _please, Erumar…_ "

His begging only served to make her tighten her legs on him, causing the pain to increase a hundred-fold. He released her wrist and tried to shove her shoulder, to dislodge her, but his arm was weak—he was exhausted from fighting the pain, the drug, and now her. He was panicking, his mind a blur at this sick, perverted thing he was doing—he had to make it _stop_! He had to get her off him! How did they _get_ here, in this place? Why was he behaving this way? Why was _she?_ Why did his body want her so badly? What in all the hells of Morgoth was going on here? Her hands were everywhere, roaming in ways and in places they should never have been and that he had never desired in his life to be. Suddenly, he was horrified that he had not stopped her yet; the only thought in his mind was to stop this… _right now._

She was completely lost to the drug; perhaps if she had only received the dosage he had, he may have been able to talk her down, but she was so far gone there was no return. She came back at him, her hips moving against him as she planted both hands on his shoulders, lost in the _feel_ of him and nothing else.

He almost lost his mind when she snatched a hold on his right shoulder, but he gritted his teeth; his vision only stars of pain. Her other hand was reaching for his stomach, her fingertips touching his skin. He had no choice but to find a way to get her off— _any_ way.

His left hand floundering along the side of his mat, he found a water pitcher. _Oh, Father! Do not make me do this!_

" _Erumar, you must stop!_ " His breaths were wheezing from the pain of her weight on his hip, her nails digging into his wounds. She ignored him completely; he had no other choice.

He could barely lift the pitcher, but somehow he managed, straining the muscles in his chest as he launched it at her; it broke against the side of her head, spilling water onto them both. She did not even cry out as she fell off him; he had hit her hard and she was out cold.

It was suddenly so hot in that tent that he had to get out. His body was begging him to acknowledge his arousal while his mind was shouting a continuous stream of Arwen's name. He struggled immediately to his knees, tripping, crying out from pain that he fought because he _had_ to _get_ _out_. _Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!_

He stumbled on his knees out of the tent, top-heavy, falling onto the ground as he rolled over, the pressure on his wounds making his mind go white, groaning as he came back to his knees. He was unable to think of Erumar's condition, only focused inwardly as he gasped, his head pounding, his heart racing. He ignored his wounds and dropped his head into his hand, the abhorrent deed he clearly had been doing making him so sick to his stomach that he began to shake in disgust. He planted his hand on the ground and bent almost in half, heaving onto the grass in front of him.

His arm, as weak as he was, could not sustain his weight; he collapsed onto his left side and cried out as he jarred his wounds again, reaching up to hold his head. His shame was so great that tears flooded his eyes. He could _feel_ Erumar's skin beneath his hand, her body pressed to him, her hips against him, attempting to love him in a way that he had loved _Arwen! Only Arwen!_ He tore his hand from his head and rubbed it violently against the grass and pebbles, trying to scrape off his skin, the very skin of the hand that had touched her breast! What in the _hell_ would make him do such a thing? How could he have ever wanted Erumar like that? _Such_ a betrayal! How could he commit such adultery against his beloved?! What betrayal and shame he felt; what horror at this deed he had done! His stomach revolted again, and he barely had time to roll onto his arm before he heaved once more.

Collapsing onto his side again, he wept, groaning aloud in his grief. " _Ilúvatar, what have I_ _ **done!**_ _What have I done? Oh, may you strike me down and discipline me for my_ _ **sin!**_ _I am so full of shame! I have wronged her; I have wronged you! May you cast my body into the fire; may I be burned for the shamefulness of this act! Ilúvatar, forgive me! How I have betrayed my beloved! My beloved!"_

He was shaking so badly, he could feel nothing but the weight of his grievous sin against her; he wanted to cover his head with his hands to block out the world. He could barely focus past the shame of what he had done; as terrible as he felt, as terribly as what he had done shamed him, his weakness was so great that he reached for her, for Arwen, called her name in his heart…and felt nothing but a void. His heart was stricken: a _void?_ What could it mean? There was no comfort for him; his thoughts flew apart as he tried to control himself. He could not; his pain was growing as he lay there and he could not move.

 _Ilúvatar, what have I done? Why this unfaithfulness; what was I doing? Erumar? Why…why would I desire her? Why would I break my covenant with Arwen over…_ His thoughts broke apart again and he gripped his hair within his fist, crying softly. _Ilúvatar, what have I done? Save me, save me from this wretchedness! Forgive me for this terrible sin…for this horror that I have committed! Save me, save me, Ilúvatar!_

Aragorn lay like this, unable to move, for what seemed like an interminable amount of time; it may have been hours, for all he knew. He had never been in so much physical and emotional pain before, not together at once; it was an assault, a violation of everything in his character, everything he knew about himself. He could hardly think why he had done something so terrible, so against everything he believed in; the pain battered him from all sides, and being unable to reach Arwen—a void—that was the worst part. He thought briefly of Erumar, a consuming disgust sweeping through him at the very thought of her; had _she_ seduced _him_? But _why?_ And why would she _say_ what she had said about the child? Arwen had been her closest childhood friend! It was too _confusing!_ He could not understand what was happening, and the mind-numbing pain was making it so _hard_ to think… He could barely focus on anything further, his only thoughts of the grief of his sin and pain…and he was _freezing_ …

* * *

It was an hour till dawn when Hildanir came from between the tents and thought Ethring was asleep at his post before the King's tent. He called out the man's name urgently, miffed that such a man responsible for the King's welfare would be sleeping. He expected a response, but then he noticed that the tent was not completely closed…and that it was not _Ethring_ lying on the ground. The guard was nowhere to be found, but the man on the ground—

" _Elessar_!" he shouted, and he broke to a run, racing to the man's side. Behind him, Tauriel, Fânrim, and Mennev followed; the party had arrived and had heard from Hildanir all that had transpired since they had traveled after the orcs to cut them down. Even though it was far too early to wake him, Tauriel had demanded to be taken to the King, to see him and his wounds; she was the best healer among them. Hildanir had told them what they would find; this had not been what he had described.

The man was a mess. Not only was he shivering, shirtless on the dew-covered grass, but his breathing was labored, and the bandages that had been covering his wounds were soaked through with blood. Hildanir reached him first of course, but Mennev was hollering as well behind him.

"My Lord, my _god_ , _Elessar_!" Hildanir called, rolling the man onto his back and staring at the wounds. The man's hand fell from his head and he could hardly respond except a groan.

"I thought you said he was all right!" Tauriel snapped, taking a knee at his side. "He needs care."

"Elessar, what _happened?_ Where's Ethring?" Mennev asked, scouting around just as Fânrim was, his bow drawn, looking for an attacker.

"Let us get him inside," Tauriel instructed and Aragorn shook his head suddenly, violently, as though coming back to himself for a moment.

" _No…_ " he groaned, gripping her wrist with his left hand. He blinked, trying to breathe more easily though it was so difficult. " _Erumar…Erumar…_ "

"Is she inside?" Hildanir asked suddenly, worried for her safety as well, but Tauriel abruptly rocked back on her heels, shaking her head and covering her mouth and nose. Hildanir turned to her, alarmed. "What is it?"

"Do you not smell it?" she asked, and she lifted her eyes to Fânrim as they began to burn. "Do you—"

"I do, Captain," he replied, and he, too, covered his nose. "There is a strange scent coming from the King's tent; I cannot place it."

"Why can't I smell it?" Mennev asked, confused.

"Your sense are not as sensitive as ours," Fânrim explained, and he shook his head. "Definitely from the King's tent… _potent_ …very potent…"

Tauriel immediately wrapped her cloak around her face and head, only leaving her eyes exposed so she could see. Then she tried to stand, but Aragorn held fast, crying out when she pulled too hard and he could not hold her.

"Not…not what…not what it _seems_ …" he muttered, tears filling his eyes.

"Elessar," Hildanir said uneasily, worried over Aragorn's condition, "try not to talk, please."

Tauriel moved forward to the opening of the tent and stopped in her tracks when she saw Erumar, lying naked beside the King's mat, shattered pieces of the water pitcher scattered around her. As she drew closer, she could tell the side of her head was bloody where she had clearly been hit. Tauriel scanned and saw the incense burner; the closer she got the more her eyes burned, and she held her cloak more tightly around her nose, but she needed that out of this place immediately. It was hidden; someone or something had placed it there out of sight; who would do such a thing? Turning, she flung a blanket over Erumar's nakedness, and then she picked up the burner and carried it out, flinging it beneath the nearest tree and smashing it; it went out immediately. She pulled back the tent flaps to air it out and stepped back over to the group of men, lowering herself to a knee, almost seeming to center herself as she took great gulps of fresh air. Fânrim reached over and set a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you well, Tauriel?" he asked, and she nodded. His eyes were full of concern when he said with some astonishment, "There is seduction in the air."

"Seduction?" repeated Hildanir incredulously.

"That _is_ the Lady Erumar inside!" said Mennev, staring into the tent.

"Erumar?" Hildanir said, staring at them as though they had several heads. "What is she doing in the King's tent at this hour of the morning?"

"This is all very unclear," Fânrim said, but even Mennev looked shaken, confused. Hildanir stared at Tauriel, hoping for a logical answer…some sort of tale that would not make the King appear as though he was doing something completely untoward. Tauriel gave no response to this, so Mennev moved forward to enter the tent, but she lifted her hand.

"Stay back, Captain," she said, "and let the tent clear. Someone was burning a…very powerful herb within the King's shelter; I do not know who, or why they would do such a thing, only that it was done and seemingly in secret; it was hidden out of sight."

"That's suspicious," Mennev immediately said.

"The King needs aid," Hildanir said, trying to focus on what was necessary, not what appeared to hardly matter at the moment.

"The Lady inside needs care as well," Tauriel admitted. "When the scent no longer remains, we should get the King back inside and look at his wounds."

"No," Aragorn said, "not _there_." They were his first clear words.

Though confused, Hildanir nodded, pointing. "To my tent, then. It is only just there. Mennev, do you think you can get us a stretcher for the King? He should be moved very carefully in his condition." He looked to Tauriel as Mennev hurried away from them. "Will you come to look at his wounds?"

She was staring back into Aragorn's tent, looking at Erumar on the ground, her mind rushing through the list of questions that they were all asking. A bit of what may have happened was revealing itself to her, but it was not making sense; it could not be clear. "Someone, a woman, needs to care for Erumar," she said softly. "I will come, but I must see to her first. Stop Aragorn's bleeding, and then I will come for the wounds. Fânrim, perhaps you can—"

There were several horns blown; horns of Gondor and then an echo—Elvish horns—the horns of the Woodland Realm. Tauriel lifted her head suddenly in surprise.

"What was that?" asked Hildanir as Mennev came running, stretcher in hand.

"The King of Lasgalen has arrived," Tauriel said, the look of relief on her face obvious.

"What should I do, Tauriel?" asked Fânrim urgently.

"Go to the King now," she agreed, "and tell him of this critical need for Elessar. I will stay with Erumar for a little while. Please on your way, send one of the Easterling women, perhaps Caswera, to me; she can care for Erumar until I can return." Fânrim bowed his head and hurried off immediately. By that time, Mennev and Hildanir had hands on Aragorn to move him as Tauriel helped them steady him; he was nearly unconscious between blood loss and pain. "Go quickly," she said, looking down into his pale face. "Once the bleeding has stopped, one of you should go to the King as well, to greet him. He may not take as kindly to the Easterlings as he would to one of you."

"Mennev will go. And you come quickly," Hildanir told her, and the two of them lifted the King, taking him toward Hildanir's tent as Tauriel turned back to Erumar, the scent now all but gone. She needed to care for the elf quickly, but she wanted Caswera; not for aid, but to watch her…to report to her when she woke so she could be questioned. Between Erumar and Aragorn something _had_ happened…and it had not been _right_. Tauriel's thoughts were a turmoil, and they would be until she could get to the bottom of what had happened. Her question was the same as the guards—had Aragorn betrayed the Evenstar of her people? Her hands shook at the very thought of such adultery; not only because it was plain wrong to do something so terrible, but because of _who they were_ , what such a betrayal would _mean_. There was no way to be certain without questioning them. Tauriel had to ask the question, where was this Ethring that had been guarding the King? The man who was supposed to have been guarding the King must also be found.

Tauriel set to work with no time to waste. Betrayal or not, Aragorn needed her _quickly_.

* * *

When he came to again, Aragorn felt for certain he was naked, and he knew that could not be good at all. In fact, his mind took him back to the instant when he had finally understood Erumar's hands being upon him and he reacted to Tauriel's hands over the wounds on his chest and shoulder, thinking he was beneath yet another woman or even Erumar again. He jerked back and she cursed as he gasped in pain. But the pain of his betrayal against Arwen was greater than the pain in his shoulder, and thinking it was Erumar, he continued to pull away even more fiercely.

"Stop, Elessar!" Tauriel cried, terrified he might hurt himself terribly. "Hildanir—!"

The guardsman reacted, leaning over to hold the man as still as possible. "Stay still, my Lord!"

At Hildanir's hands, Aragorn's eyes blinked open in his dazed state; knowing he was no longer alone with Erumar helped. Then he recognized Tauriel, but could not relax as much as he wished. The pain was intensifying.

"Ilúvatar," Tauriel murmured, "this was easier when you were unaware…"

He could tell; his body wanted to fight her, to yank away, to beat Hildanir for holding him tightly, but he did not. Instead, every muscle was taut enough to snap and his breathing was so harsh Tauriel thought he might stop. He did not; he suffered through, struggling to remain quiet as she worked in silence to close those gashes that had reopened, even turning him onto his side to study those on his back. Finally, when she had finished, she coated them with a salve she had mixed. The burning was horrifying at first, and Hildanir had to plant his hand on Aragorn's face to hold his head down so he did not jerk his muscles all over. Finally, he leaned off the King and allowed him to keep himself still.

"That was awful," Hildanir muttered, his hands shaking as he laid a wet cloth over Aragorn's brow. "Forgive me, my Lord, for holding you so forcefully."

Aragorn slowly shook his head, still trying to control his breathing and the trembling of his own body. He had thought he understood pain when he had been impaled by the tree branch trying to rescue Enguina several years ago—it was _nothing._ He wanted to tell Hildanir that he was grateful, but he found he could not speak at the moment. He heard Tauriel rinsing her hands in a bowl of water, wiping them on a towel. She drew the blanket that covered him from feet to waist up to cover to his ribs. He was cold; he felt he would never be warm again, shivering. He felt he was naked before them, and that made him more uncomfortable than he could have ever imagined. His right arm was not bound to his side at the moment, but that did not matter; he would have never attempted to move it anyway.

"You are trembling," Tauriel said softly. "Try to breathe more easily, my Lord."

 _Aragorn, Aragorn…my name is Aragorn…please…can neither of you see my pain? Do you not know that I want to hide from you both right now? How I wish I could bury myself alive!_

Hildanir watched his face, watched his eyes close as he swallowed hard, his head where Hildanir had left it. His lieutenant gnawed on his lip, indecisive. What should he say now? He had several things he would like to say, but there was a question that burned brighter than any other.

"You are exhausted, weak," the elf said. "You strained yourself and tore many of your wounds. You were not ready to move at all, much less crawl the tent."

Tauriel had created an opening for him, so Hildanir did not prevent himself from asking the question. _Someone_ needed to. "Elessar, what were you doing on the ground outside your tent?" Hildanir asked him.

"I…had to…get out," he struggled out. Tauriel's eyes were fixed on his face as he spoke, trying to discern what that meant. Did he know about the drug that had been burning? Or did he know because _he_ had been burning it?

"Where was Ethring?"

"Eth…" he began and then shook his head slowly. _I do not know, Hildanir_.

"Ethring was the guard before your tent; he was nowhere to be found when we left earlier," Hildanir said, and again, Aragorn shook his head. Hildanir struggled in silence for several long minutes, warring with his sworn duty to the Queen and that to his King, and then he could no longer bear the strain of it; he was compelled to speak. "My Lord, I must ask you…why was Erumar, unclothed…in your tent?"

Aragorn's face contorted with grief as he squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipping out of them. There was no self-control to be had, for what he had done he was so full of shame; even after begging Ilúvatar for forgiveness, he had none for himself. His left hand shook as he brought it up despite his weakness to cover his face, unable to look at them. "I do not _know_ ," he gasped out, and he broke down in grief, despite the agony that the crying brought to his already aching form. How could he explain something that even he could not understand?

Hildanir did not know what question to ask next; he never expected his lord and king to lose himself to tears before him. Aragorn was the strongest man he knew. What should be his course now? Tauriel lifted the blanket to cover the man's chest and she reached up to take his shaking hand in hers. Though she still did not understand, one thing was certain: whatever happened had not been his choice. This was the real Aragorn they were seeing, not some act, and he could not hold her back from withdrawing his hand.

"Tell us what you remember." Her voice was soft, but it brought him no comfort.

"I do not know what I was doing!" he groaned aloud. "She was with me there, she was beside me, _astride_ me when I…when I was…" No, he could _not_ say the words! He could _not_! He turned his face away then, unable to look at either one of them. How could he voice aloud what he had done? " _I cannot_ …"

"When did she arrive?" Hildanir asked, and Aragorn shook his head. He could not answer; he did not know. "Elessar, should she be under guard?" he asked. He hesitated; he did not want to ask his next question because he could not picture Erumar, the innocent woman that he had come to know, a seducer, but he asked it. "Did she assault you?"

Aragorn shook his head again, this time more violently. " _No, no…it was not…it was not only her,_ " he stuttered the words through his tears, so full of confusion; _why_ would he ever have gone to Erumar's arms? Why had he wanted her that way?

Hildanir had no words. _Why would he seek Erumar? Where was Ethring in all this?_

Tauriel looked down into Aragorn's face, trying to read through his words, understand what he meant by them. She knew that he was not innocent in all of this, but it was clear that he had been breathing in a powerful aphrodisiac; she had smelled it herself. But how could she know he had not tried to seduce _Erumar_? Perhaps it was all Aragorn and not Erumar at all. She could not, however, confront him like this; he could barely speak at the moment, and he needed to rest. He was clearly in pain. She looked sideways into Hildanir's worried face and made her decision.

"Aragorn, you need to rest," she said to him, reaching up to place a hand on his forehead. "You are in pain, and you are confused. You may remember more when you wake; I do not know. I _do_ know that I am going to make you sleep for now, so you can lay without pain. Close your eyes."

It was the exhaustion in him, and the fact that he could not bear one more moment inside his own head so full of shame and accusations, that made him obey her. He felt the familiar heaviness of sleep settle over him and he welcomed it, escaping both physical and emotional pain. He needed less of the physical pain so that he could somehow deal with the emotional one—sleep was the only way to accomplish that. He was gone in another moment.

"Excuse me, Captain, Lieutenant." Both Tauriel and Hildanir looked up and to the opening to Hildanir's tent where Fânrim stood, hands clasped. Fânrim bowed his head. "I have two messages. First, Tauriel, the King wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. Secondly, the Lady Erumar is quite ill. I stopped at the King's Tent because I thought you were still there. Caswera thought you might wish to know."

"Is she awake?" Tauriel asked, and before she rose to her feet, she kissed Aragorn's hand and gently laid it back down at his side. "Has she come to?"

"That I was not certain of," he admitted, "but if Caswera knows she is ill, I would imagine she is either almost awake or was awake before. Either way, she should be able to respond to whatever you inquire."

"I will go there," she said, and Fânrim frowned.

"But, Tauriel, the King—"

"The King will understand the importance of this investigation and would agree that I must see to it first. In the meanwhile, if Hildanir agrees, I think that someone needs to find this Ethring that was supposed to be at his post and now cannot be found."

"I do most _heartily_ agree," Hildanir said immediately, still worried for Aragorn.

Her eyes narrowed. "He must be involved one way or another."

"What makes you say that?" asked Fânrim cautiously.

"Why leave his post?" She glanced over to Hildanir. "Not one of your men would leave their King abandoned in such a condition where he would never be able to defend himself. No…either he saw something he does not wish to report because of embarrassment or trouble, or he was involved directly and did more than simply see it."

"Again, I agree," Hildanir stated. "Fânrim, please, if you would search for him. Recruit whoever you need from our men; someone may have seen him. I do not wish to leave the King alone until we know what happened, and he is still in much pain. I will not trust to leave him with anyone else."

"It will be safer that way," Tauriel added. "And I will return as quickly as I may when I have spoken with and checked upon Erumar." She glanced back down at Aragorn and Hildanir looked up into her face.

"I hope and pray, by Ilúvatar, that what I think happened was _not_ what was happening in that tent." He looked so grave that Tauriel looked at him just as seriously in response.

"I…think we do not know all of the facts," Tauriel said. "Before we do, we should not pass judgment on either one of them, though I, too, am appalled and horrified by the thought." And then she was gone, eager to speak with Erumar and praying that she would be able to shed light on what had happened.

* * *

Tauriel made her way to the King's tent, scanning all the while for Ethring; she did not see him. She figured not, but she was confident that Fânrim would find him as he traversed the camp separately. Especially quickly if he recruited Gondorians to help him—if they were not all indisposed at this hour. The day was dawning now, and though it was bright it was not necessarily warm. The sun was not reaching her today; she had a chill that went bone-deep and it had nothing to do with the weather. _Had_ Aragorn seduced Erumar? Had _she_ seduced him? It came as no surprise to her that she was ill. Erumar had probably inhaled mass quantities of the aphrodisiac, like poison to an elvish body. There were very few things that elves could take; it was almost as though Ilúvatar had made them so they could only use herbs to help themselves not to cause damage or do foolish things. She had always felt that way.

She slipped into the tent and Caswera immediately launched herself from where she was sitting.

"You aren't supposed to be in here!" she said and then realized who the elf was, having seen her many times. "Oh…forgive me, Tauriel. I was just trying to allow the Lady some peace to rest. She was awake for a moment or two, was retching, and then fell back into some sort of…" she shook her head. "Something is definitely the matter with her."

She nodded, looking over towards where Erumar lay, still in stages of undress. On her forehead was a sheen of sweat; she _was_ clearly sick. "Caswera, would you mind stepping outside the tent for a few minutes? I need to speak with her." It was obvious as well that Erumar was awake now; she was vomiting into the bucket that Caswera had left nearby. Caswera nodded, but looked disgusted.

"Are you sure that you wish to be alone in the same room with this… _slitka?_ "

Tauriel stared at her. She was not certain of the word's meaning, but she was thinking that Caswera knew that the King was a married man, and this woman was in his tent, almost entirely naked. "Do not pass judgment yet, Caswera," Tauriel said softly. "We do not yet know all of the details."

Her eyes narrowed; she wanted to say exactly what she was thinking, but instead she said nothing. It was clear what she thought. She nodded once and turned from the tent, leaving Tauriel to make her way to Erumar's side. The older elf had dropped back down onto her side, breathing heavily, her eyelids fluttering in her illness. Tauriel slid the bucket over and took its place; even without knowing what the true tale was, she was not going to leave the woman entirely alone. She reached out and placed a soaking wet cloth on her forehead, allowing the cool liquid to work on her. She investigated the head wound with her fingertips.

Aside from the uncomfortable nature of what she was feeling _and_ being ill, which she had never been, as soon as Erumar saw Tauriel, everything that had happened in the last several hours came flooding back to her. She remembered following Ethring, remembered changing in front of him, remembered approaching Aragorn in his tent, remembered telling him that she would give him a child as she settled over him and began acting as though they were having intercourse with clothes on. Oh, she was the most _disgusting_ creature in Middle Earth! Her head was pounding, her stomach was somersaulting, and she had laid hands on a married man, on her closest friend's husband.

She covered her face immediately; she knew this was Tauriel, and even now she could not bear to look at her, to know that as she lay beneath the blanket she was still naked, and that the pillow she laid her head on was full of Aragorn's scent. Her breath caught in her throat and her lips and hands trembled with the force of holding back her own tears. _Father, look at what I have done! Look at what these hands have done!_ She felt physically sick at the thought of her betrayal against Arwen. How could she do something so awful, even under the control of a drug?

"Erumar, I am right here," Tauriel said. "You are very ill. Tell me what happened."

" _I am an adulterer!_ " she cried out, her whole body beginning to shake as she cried. "I have touched and seduced a married man!"

Tauriel thought it strange that Erumar would admit to such a thing and then weep over it. If she had done this on her own, why would she say that she was an adulterer? Would she have used that word? "Erumar, tell me what happened," she asked again, stroking her forehead and trying to take her hands down with the other.

"One of the soldiers approached me," she gasped through her tears. "He told me that Gondor needed a service from me, that I was needed…that I needed to lie with the King in order to give him a son for the line of Telcontar." Her stomach flipped and she lowered one hand to it, trying not to vomit even as she thought of what had happened. "He forced me to breathe a drug," she said, her voice growing softer, "that made me…that…"

"Filled you with desire," Tauriel filled in gently, the pieces of this terrible crime falling into place. "Oh, Erumar…"

She nodded, still shaking in her shame. "He forced on me something that made me obey him; I had no choice but to go to Aragorn's t-tent." Tears spilled down her face. "I had no choice! And I could not stop myself! I could see my hands, I could hear my own voice saying such things that I would never say—that _he_ told me to say—to Aragorn! I was…laid bare before him, trying to seduce him; he _let_ me. _Why did he let me?_ "

"The drug was in his mind as well," Tauriel told her. "The tent was full of it; that was why he could not stop, you or himself."

"But something _did_ stop him," she added. "He hit me with…something…I think he did." Tauriel nodded as Erumar closed her eyes tightly. "I…am so ashamed. I am so disgusted by what I have done. I…will never be able to look in his face again."

"None of this was your doing. The only thing that you could ever be to blame for is not being able to battle the poison in your body, Erumar, and even that can only be done by the strongest. Aragorn only had one dose; it seems you had much more than that. You are not an adulterer."

"Yes, I am," she repeated, and when she opened her eyes she looked at her hands. "I _touched_ him, _with these hands_. Only his wife should ever…it was so wrong…I would…I would _never_ have. I would never have touched a man the way I touched him." _I have never touched a man the way I touched him…never_ … _not even Haldir_. _Not like_ that _._

"Of course you would not," Tauriel said gently. "I did not understand all that had happened before I came here to talk to you. Now, I do. Tell me, Erumar, who was the man who did this to you? Who planned this? Who forced the drugs on you?"

Her lips trembled again. " _Ethring…_ the Lieutenant of Gondor."

She had known it; of course it was him—the one charged to guard the King had been plotting against him all evening. Tauriel's eyes grew hard. "He will not go far," she stated. "Fânrim is searching the camp for him."

"I do not think he intended to run," she said softly, beginning to look paler by the moment. "I think he knew that after the outcome, he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions."

Tauriel stared at her. "He had…he had no intention of—?" Her voice drifted off. The very thought of the man sending the two of them to lie with one another and then pretend that what he had done was all right…that was disgusting to her. She was appalled by such utter surety when it could not be further from the truth. Could he not see how _wrong_ it was?

Erumar shook her head. "Aragorn needs an heir," she murmured, covering her eyes with one trembling hand.

"He is _wed_ ," Tauriel said. "The Evenstar will bear him a child."

"The Gondorians believe her to be barren; they do not understand our race as they should. That is why Ethring wanted me, as I have already borne children into the world. He wanted me to give Aragorn a son."

"Who is he to act?" she asked incredulously. "Do the citizens of Gondor take such interest in their King's affairs that they seek to cause him to stray?"

"He said that Gondor asked it of me," Erumar added. "I think he meant the Council within Minas Tirith. They are sometimes at odds with Aragorn, or so…she has said." Erumar swallowed, unable to say Arwen's name. Even _thinking_ it made her physically ill. No matter what Tauriel had said, she blamed herself for this. She had to; there was no one else to blame. If she had been stronger, she might have been able to have beaten Ethring, or fight the effects of the drug—but she was not.

"You need to rest," Tauriel said, dabbing her forehead with the cloth. Her eyes caught on Erumar's wrists—she had been clearly restrained at some point.

"I…am going to heave again," she murmured. "He made me drink it."

"It will be better to get it out," she admitted. "Elessar must know what really happened, and Ethring must be found and brought to justice." She stroked Erumar's face. "Remember that this was not your fault. He was not the only victim here; you are as well. Take rest and recover your strength. Caswera will stay with you, and I will return as soon as I may. Please…find some rest, Erumar."

The older elf nodded slowly as Tauriel moved the bucket back near her. She heard and understood Tauriel's words, but there was nothing that could heal her heart, not from this. Full of shame, afraid to see Aragorn, afraid to be confronted by the deed she had unwittingly done, she could do nothing but hide here, away from everyone else. Her next thought was to return to Lórien and be gone from the world; perhaps _that_ is what she would do.

There was nothing else Tauriel could do for her at the moment when she did not know what Erumar was thinking, and Aragorn needed to be told the tale. She stood.

"I will be back soon," she said gently. "In the meantime, get some rest, and I will have Caswera attend to your wounds. You will be well-protected here." Erumar nodded, but said nothing more, trying to regain some control of her stomach so that Tauriel could leave the tent without hearing her vomit again. Tauriel was not too concerned about that, but she wished she could help soothe her mind.

Perhaps there was nothing that could do that but time.


	41. Chapter 41

The sun rose in Minas Tirith as usual, but when Legolas woke, he found it to be much higher in the sky than he expected. He remained absolutely still though, not having the slightest desire to untangle himself from the body of his lovely wife. He lay on his back, her cheek pressed against his chest, her leg over his, their arms wrapped around each other, their bodies as closely pressed together as possible for a woman so pregnant. She had slept the whole night; it was only the second time since he had arrived. Legolas had to smile to himself about that; _he_ was the reason she was sleeping so peacefully, though he wondered how the child could know how tired his dear mother was. He ran his hand over her hair and watched her smile in her sleep as he thought about how he had brought her pleasure last night. The purest thing in the world was when they gave themselves to one another in love.

He thanked Ilúvatar for his wife.

He had made everything about her, every touch and every kiss. He knew that she felt guilty when he did that, but he _loved_ it. He grinned again, dragging his fingertips along her spine, thinking how she had tried to remain still beneath him but had found it impossible. Oh, howshe had called his name with passion! He had told her before their love-making that he was going to put her into a sound-sleep and she had only laughed at his teasing words. His hands made their way across her back now, and as she breathed it tickled his chest. She pulled herself in closer, still resting, and one of his hands laid down onto her belly, rubbing gently. He intended to rub her down with some lotion before the day really began, but it was difficult to do when she was lying on her side, half-buried against him.

The baby was getting so _big_ ; eight months along now and still growing. Enguina had never looked more beautiful to him. Her golden hair was tucked behind her ears— _he_ had placed it there—and beneath his chin, the sunlight coming in through the window making it glisten and shimmer. Rubbing her stomach, being this close to her, talking with the baby…these were a few of the things he lived for now.

"Dearest little one," Legolas whispered, eyes now closed, "you are growing so quickly inside your mother. You know that I love her with all of my heart, and I will love you as well. There is nothing I want more than to hold you in my arms. I must only wait one more month." The baby bumped gently against his hand and his smile grew. "It is getting tight in there, I imagine; there cannot be much room for you to maneuver. But soon, you will be in the great, wide world, and enjoying the Creator, the One. How we cannot wait for you to be born, little one! May Ilúvatar continue to protect and care for you and your mother, my child."

He opened his eyes and looked down and then his met hers; she was awake. She snuggled closer to him, smiling, as she reached her hand up from his side to his cheek and stroked his skin with her fingertips. "Good morning, my Prince," she whispered, and he kissed the top of her head.

"You slept _very_ well," he whispered back, and he heard her let out a soft giggle.

"Mmm, because of you," she murmured, kissing the skin in front of her and tracing his lips with her fingers. "Because of your magic."

"I am not a magical being, my love."

"Last night was very magical," she said, leaning onto her elbow so she could lean into him, drawing her hand back down to trace circles along his smooth chest. "I have not felt this rested in months."

"And what of a few weeks ago? That bath did not count as you sleeping; you were definitely awake for that."

"Oh, that was good, but this was _better_." He laughed and ran a hand across her belly. "Ilúvatar, Legolas," she whispered, "the way you made me feel last night as you touched me…so loved, so desired, so wanted. It was absolute bliss; it is always more than I could have ever imagined." Tears came to her eyes even as she smiled. "Ilúvatar's hands have made you, and I do not deserve you."

"We were made to be together, my Guin," he told her, and he looked down her body to her long legs, taking in her beauty.

After a few seconds of this, she blushed. "You would not allow me to love you the way you loved me last night. And you are _staring_ …you look upon me as though you will never see me again."

"In this morning light, you are incredibly beautiful," he admitted. "I can barely take my eyes off you, the swell of your body where the baby lays, the sunlight shining upon your hair. I want to study you; I want to know every place on your body as Aragorn knows Arwen." He chuckled softly. "Though I think I already may; I spend so much time awake watching you as you sleep…especially when you are unclothed."

She rolled her eyes, but her blush darkened. "You should not say such things."

"Why not?" he laughed. "They are true; why should I not say them? You are the most beautiful thing in the world when you are…undressed." She giggled, rubbing her cheek against his chest; it was difficult to remain embarrassed when he was being so straightforward, so honest. He continued in his soft voice, "In fact, I think you should never wear clothes again."

She pressed her lips to his chest and then wrapped herself more tightly around him, bringing her face close to his so she could kiss him. "I would be quite a sight in the street."

"Well..." he said with a slight hesitation, "I would remove you from Minas Tirith under cover of darkness so no one could see you. Then, after you bear our child, you can stay naked all the time in our little glade, in the privacy of our woods. Our child will never know any better."

She burst out laughing. "Oh Legolas, you embarrass me! I think you are the most handsome thing in the world as well, but I would not want you to walk around unclothed every day!" He was kissing her face then, and as she closed her eyes he kissed her eyelids. "That tickles."

"Of course it does," he murmured. She smiled and let him continue.

"Before I get wrapped up in you," she sighed, trying to be honest, "I woke this morning with Arwen on my heart."

"Arwen? Why?" he asked, still kissing around her face, his hands holding her close.

"She is still not sleeping well…and she has no Aragorn to bring her peace. I fear these rumors happening within the Council, the ones that made you threaten Nardur…I do not know," she said chewing her lip. "I feel as though they weigh on her more than they should. And I _hate_ that Aragorn had to go; I have hated it since the moment I heard."

"You told me he had to."

"Of course he did; he is the King. If your father went to war, would he not lead his men?"

He rolled his eyes, planting kisses on her temple. "Yes, Guin."

"It is not only Nardur's rumors I worry about you know," she said softly.

"He has not spoken to you, has he?" Legolas asked sharply and she immediately shook her head.

"No, no—"

"Good. I would hate to have to murder him."

" _Legolas_ ," she chided, "control yourself. Anyway, it was a short time before you came; Dintîr told Arwen about some worries he, too, had within the Council."

" _Dintîr_ came and spoke to her?" he asked, lifting his head to look into hers. She opened her eyes, feeling the tension in him. "They _have_ been worried. Why did you not tell me sooner?"

She shook her head, confused. "I did not…I did not think it was important."

"I should talk with him and Noldore; perhaps tomorrow, to see what is going on." He nodded, kissing her forehead. "I think I will. Those two at least have their senses; they will know what is happening within the Council and be honest. I should have thought of it before, but I will look into it. For Arwen."

"Thank you," she said, feeling relief, and she glanced out the window before raising her eyebrows at him. "You know…we missed breakfast this morning."

"Doubtful that Arwen is waiting for us," Legolas replied, kissing her. "She knew we were celebrating your eighth month last night."

She blushed again, kissing him back several times. "She _did_ tell us we needed to get a room. Should we try to make lunch instead?"

"Yes."

She gave him a pout. " _Must_ we make lunch? I was simply hoping to cuddle with you a little while longer today."

"We can cuddle after lunch," he teased.

She sighed. "Oh, all right," she replied as he rubbed his hands along her back. "Then, I suppose it is bath time. I cannot go to the King's House looking like this."

"Now _that_ sounds like a good idea." He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Really? I was thinking that you said you were intending to make it for lunch," she teased.

"Well, that was before your brilliant bathing idea. I would like nothing more than to help give you a bath." She laughed at him.

"I bet you would!"

He rolled her off him a bit so he could sit up as he rested a hand on her cheek. "Come now, how can you possibly wash your legs when you can hardly see them?"

He could not get away from her fast enough before her hand came down across his abs with a slapping sound, but when she tried to grab at him so he could not get up, he leapt to his feet.

" _Legolas_ , son of Thranduil, you _will_ apologize for that mean comment in front of the baby!"

" _Mean_? Me?" he asked incredulously. He rolled his eyes. "My little child," he added, looking directly towards Enguina's stomach as he leaned his hands on the bed, "your mother is the most beautiful woman in Middle-Earth, but she is also incredibly _bossy_."

" _You!_ " she cried as she swung at his arm, but he leapt back from her reach again. "I will get you for that!" There was laughter in her eyes as he picked up a handful of clothes.

"Well, you shall have to come and find me in the bath," he said. "Do not take too long, or I will already be clean." He scooted out of the room and she stared at him, open-mouthed.

"That is _so childish!_ " she hollered.

"Do not yell around the baby, dearest!" he called and he heard her growl as she rubbed her stomach with her hand. She could hear the sound of running water, and then suddenly, grinned evilly.

" _Legolas!_ " she called. "Help, please!"

He was back in the room in a moment, concern on his features. "What is the matter?"

"I _cannot_ get up," she said, laughing and reaching for him. He rolled his eyes, but reached back for her anyway. Grasping his hands, she unsuspectingly yanked him over atop her, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him there. "I could get used to this," she whispered, laughing.

" _Enguina!_ "

"I cannot believe you fell for that!" she laughed, and he struggled against her until he squirmed free, lifting her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.

"You think you are so funny," he said, looking into her eyes. "I could have hurt one of you."

"I _am_ funny," she said, and kissed his chin. "And I am _fine_. Now, let us see about this _bath_."

* * *

Ethring had been found.

When sunrise had come and he had appeared at the King's tent to take up his post with none the wiser, he had found Caswera. Vanishing within the Easterling camp, he had somehow remained hidden for some time before Fânrim had found him. The elf had no idea of the treachery of the Gondorian; he only knew that the man was to be found. Aragorn, however, knew, as Tauriel had reported to him everything that she had learned from Erumar before returning to her side. She knew she should have reported to Thranduil after spending some time with Aragorn, but she returned to Erumar instead. The elf needed company and comfort—who better to provide than her?

Fânrim, however, brought Ethring directly to Hildanir's tent where the Lieutenant was waiting outside. He had seen Captain Mennev and his own King speaking with the Easterlings in long conversation, the food that the elf-king had brought sufficient to feed his people for some time. This was good, but eventually, the King would need to speak to Aragorn; he need not have worried as Mennev would bring him. In the meantime, Ethring needed to be questioned.

"Lieutenant," Hildanir said sternly, and Ethring looked directly into his eyes, "how dare you break my trust, the King's trust, and abandon your post?" The man stared at him, but refused answer. " _Speak!_ " There was no response. "I am ashamed to call you a soldier of Gondor; I am ashamed to call you my comrade," he snapped with disgust. "The King will decide what is to be done with you. If it were up to me…" He shook his head and looked to the elf. "Fânrim, will you wait here with him?"

He stepped back into the tent, where Aragorn was once again resting. He knelt down at his side and spoke softly, as to not startle him.

"My Lord, Ethring has been found."

Aragorn blinked and struggled awake. He tried to lift his head, but he felt so weak that he could not do it. "Found?" His eyes darkened immediately, thinking of Tauriel's words to him—what he could remember of them that had infuriated him. He began to struggle to get up, but he could barely pull his upper body forward; he hardly had any strength. "Help me."

Hildanir stared at him. He had assumed that the King would just tell him what to do with the man until he was strong enough to question him; he had not expected this. "Elessar, I do not think—"

" _Help me_ , Hildanir," Aragorn instructed again. "I want to sit up."

It was one of the most difficult things Aragorn ever had to do; his hip was driving him mad with pain, but he forced himself up with Hildanir's help, fixing his trousers appropriately one-handed. He even had Hildanir wrap a tunic over his good arm and then simply hang it down over the tied one. It was better than nothing; the pain he would force aside until later when he could fall apart. He _still_ had been unable to reach Arwen.

"Bring him in."

"As…as you wish, my Lord." Hildanir opened the tent so the soldier could enter. "The King would like a word, Lieutenant."

Instead of leaving, as Hildanir normally would have, he took up a post directly inside the tent so he could watch Ethring. Though they were the same rank, he no longer trusted the man alone with the King—he _knew_ Tauriel had told him something when she had asked to speak with him alone. He was now about to find out what it was; he was not leaving Aragorn's side if he could help it. Not for anything; unless the King ordered him out. Beside that, how much protection could the man offer himself in his condition?

Ethring looked directly at Elessar; he was not going to pretend to hide. Who knew the reason why he was here? But the King's gaze was hard, even though he was pale, as they stared at one another.

"Speak," Aragorn said, his voice deathly quiet. "Speak on what you have done."

"My Lord, what are you—"

"You know _exactly_ what I speak of. Begin now."

"I am afraid I do not know—"

Aragorn restrained himself a second too late. " _Do not pretend your innocence!_ " he roared, and Hildanir laid his hand on his sword hilt at the King's sudden outburst and nearly drew it. Oh _how_ Aragorn wanted to leap up and throttle the man in the face! Wring his neck! Ethring took a step back and that was all the incentive Aragorn needed as he struggled to his feet, his eyes aflame. Hildanir held out a hand to stay him, wanting to stop him, but it was Ethring who stepped forward.

"You are not well, my—"

"I am well-enough to _break_ you," Aragorn snarled, and though he took a step he put nearly no weight through his right leg. "I wake to find a woman in my arms _who is not my wife._ Erumar lies in her tent, suffering in fever _with your name on her lips_! And you will confess to nothing? Where is the soldier who is supposed to be loyal to Gondor? Loyal to _me?_ "

Aragorn took another step and Ethring held out his hand to hold him off. "Please, my Lord, you are unwell!" Ethring cried, and Hildanir stepped forward when Aragorn looked as though he was going to grab the man around the throat and strangle him.

" _Ethring_ ," he snapped, shoving him in the back, "answer the King's question, _now_."

"You will tell me what you have done," Aragorn said, his voice like death once again. "And why you would ever do such a thing."

Ethring looked at him as though weighing what he thought Aragorn already knew. "You already know why Gondor would do such a thing. Erumar is a perfect choice for you—"

"Perfect _choice_?" he said, confusion written on his face. "I am a _wedded_ man! Erumar has nothing to do with me! You said _Gondor_. Why would _Gondor_ do such a thing? Who is included in this 'Gondor?'"

"Some of your people," Ethring replied. "If you do not know why Gondor would encourage this, than you are truly blind." He stared at him incredulously. "You need an _heir_ , Elessar. An heir!"

"Enough of this!" Aragorn said, throwing his hand in the air and jarring his neck. Despite the pain, he continued, "I traveled hundreds of miles from Minas Tirith, and you think that throwing Erumar and I together for one night is going to help? One night does not guarantee a _child_! You think _now_ is the perfect time to consummate a love affair?"

"You would never have fallen for Erumar—"

"We did not _fall_ for one another!" he snarled, shoving Ethring in the center of his chest. The man stumbled backwards and Hildanir grabbed him by the shoulder before he fell over, making sure he stayed where he belonged. "I would _never_ fall for her! I am a man who _loves his wife_! _I would never take another! Never!_ No drug, no threat, no power in Middle-Earth could change that!"

"Then…" Ethring murmured, looking miserable, "it did not—"

"If you value your life," Aragorn growled, glaring at the man, "do not speak those words aloud. You only draw breath right now save for my good will. You would not make this choice on your own. Who gave you this task?"

"Of bringing you and the Lady together?" he asked, shaking his head in denial. "You are wrong, my Lord. I took this upon myself; Gondor needsr—"

" _Gondor!_ " Hildanir spat ferociously from behind him. "What of duty and honor to one's spouse? What about _loyalty_ to your King? To your Queen? Do these things not matter?"

"Listen: truly I never—"

"Do not _ever_ try and lie to _me_ , Ethring," Aragorn said, his piercing eyes penetrating the soldier.

Ethring hesitated. The King was going to find out eventually that the Council was involved, and it would be better for the man to be lying down anyway; the faster he told the tale, the better. He was growing paler, standing still a struggle, his hands trembling.

"It was the Ruling Council," Ethring replied. "They know you need an heir."

"No," he stated, his voice and eye stern. "They would not all have sent you. Too many are loyal to me. _No_ …who was it?"

"It was my Uncle, was it not?" asked Hildanir, a scowl of disgust on his face. "Tell your Lord the truth, and quickly!"

"It…" Ethring hesitated, but there was no way that he could lie. "It was Councilman Nardur, yes."

"I _knew_ it," Hildanir muttered, furious. "The _bastard_."

Aragorn showed no surprise at the fact that Nardur was Hildanir's uncle, though he had not known the information; at some point there would be time to discuss that. At the moment, he was thinking of every vicious word, every terrible sentence that had come from Nardur over the past few months and he wanted to skin the man alive. That man was going to pay dreadfully for every single touch of skin between himself and Erumar; with his return to Minas Tirith, the man would go on trial for crimes against the crown. It was a very good thing Nardur himself was not present now; no amount of self-control or attempt at restraint or pain from movement would have helped to stop him.

"This was the perfect opportunity," Ethring continued shamelessly. "You needed an heir, and the Lady had already borne several children _and_ she closely resembled the Queen." Hildanir and Aragorn stared at him, appalled. "The people would never have noticed any difference. With Erumar with child, an heir could have been born and no one would have been the wiser."

"And…" Aragorn was so enraged, so incensed, that he could hardly speak, "and what of my wife? What of Arwen, at home in Minas Tirith? Did you give any thought to how an intimate encounter with another woman would affect _her_?"

"Nardur was to speak with her on your behalf," he replied. "She would have eventually understood."

" _Under—?_ "

"Yes," he said firmly, "she would have understood. She, at least, agrees you need an heir. If this was the only way to do it, her barren and all—"

The man's voice cut off as Aragorn struck him across the face; he did not even attempt to check himself. Hildanir's blood was boiling at the words, but he simply pushed the man straight again. "Do not _dare_ slander my wife before me, Lieutenant!" Aragorn barked, fire shooting down his neck and back from his shoulder. He was unsure how much longer he could remain standing. He refused to allow weakness now; just a little while longer. "What did you do to Erumar, to both of us?"

"It should have _worked_ ," he said, shaking his head. "It should have worked perfectly. The aphrodisiac was so powerful; Erumar had a very strong dose."

"You nearly killed her."

"I did not mean to!" he cried, genuinely distressed about that incident. "I thought it would work, but it caused her to lose her mind, lose control for a little while. I _needed_ her, why would I poison her on purpose? The drug should have worked on both of you." He stared at the King, shaking his head. "I cannot understand how you overcame it."

Aragorn had no chance to reply as he abruptly dropped to his knees, gripping his own chest, suffering, _agony_ , tearing at his heart as pain jarred his entire right side. He had never felt _anything_ like the fraction of a moment of anguish he had just felt; gasping for breath, he was numb with loss, his heart tortured by the feelings he suddenly understood. They were _Arwen's_ …and he had felt them before: they were the feelings he had felt that had drawn him from the drug's mindless pleasure. He _reached_ for her, and found nothing but an iron wall slammed shut about a void. There was no way to reach her. Did…had she _felt_ him?

His hand caught in his own hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. " _Oh god…god…Arwen…_ "

"Elessar—"

Hildanir shoved Ethring aside as he crouched immediately beside Aragorn. "My Lord, the Queen?" He had no idea why Aragorn had said her name, but anything concerning her concerned him. Aragorn lowered his hand from his wet face and he planted it on Hildanir's shoulder, staring up at Ethring.

"What did Nardur do?" he asked, in his mind a constant plea for mercy from Ilúvatar. " _What did he tell her?_ " He barely wanted to breathe.

Ethring shook his head, confused. "Nothing except the truth. You were to lie with Erumar and she was to bear you a son as the Kings of Old would have done. There was nothing more."

Oh, with Nardur there was _always_ more—wheels within wheels. Aragorn groaned with grief, his heart consumed with her suffering in his mind, as he lowered his face to his hand again. _Oh, please, Father! If you could have mercy on me, spare her from this pain! This is my doing, not hers! Spare her, please, Holy One!_

"Elessar? Are you all right?" Hildanir again.

"I…" he gasped, searching for air, "I feel…as though my…heart has been torn…from my chest."

"The Queen?" Aragorn nodded, the pain of his actions over the past few minutes overtaking him. The adrenaline of anger gone, he would have never been able to get up now. Hildanir rose and called for Fânrim; the elf entered. "Take Ethring to his tent and place him in chains."

"I was trying to save Gondor!" Ethring shouted as the elf took his arms.

Hildanir scowled at him. "And destroy the King's family in the process," he snapped. "Ethring, you are hereby under arrest for plotting against the royal family. Get him out of here, and keep him chained, out of the King's sight. Station one of the guards with him as well. I will report to the Captain when I have a moment. Thank you, Fânrim." The elf took the man, who followed willingly; he had no choice. He would accept the consequences of his actions.

Hildanir immediately turned back. "Lie down, Elessar."

Aragorn had no choice; if Hildanir had not been there to help him, he would have fallen over for certain. But he was so full of anguish, he could not think straight. His breath was quick and shallow, and even as he struggled physically, emotionally he was just as much a mess. He had no idea how much time passed; he only knew that as he struggled for control, he must make his way home. _He must!_

Even had he not felt Arwen's agony, he knew that Nardur was involved in some treacherous plot. There were too many wheels. Nardur would never have trusted only Ethring, someone _else_ , to carry out his plan. He _had_ to be taking matters into his own hands in Minas Tirith, and that meant Arwen was most likely in grave danger…and he could not reach her.

The tent flap moved and Hildanir turned. "My…King Thranduil!" he exclaimed. He had known Mennev would lead the King here eventually, but it was so unexpected after such a confrontation between Aragorn and Ethring and the man was clearly in pain now. "Captain," he said to Mennev, before stepping aside, looking to Thranduil. "My Lord, the King is not well—"

"My Lord, King Thranduil," Mennev said to Aragorn, stepping forward.

"Help me, Hildanir," Aragorn said, and the man came closer.

"My Lord—"

"Please," he said, and Hildanir leaned down to help him sit up once again. No amount of care could have made the movements any easier for Aragorn; he suffered.

The Elven King looked every bit a woodland king. He had a branch-shaped crown upon his head that was typical for this time of year, with holly and berries entwined, long blonde hair, and such regal bearing that he could never have been mistaken for anyone else. Aragorn opened his eyes and met Thranduil's; he felt a relief he could have never explained…and a shame that went beyond all imagining.

"I was told the King of Gondor was ill," Thranduil said in his favorite detached voice. It would have made Aragorn smile had he been in any other state. "But I see that they were dishonest. He is not ill, he is not even half-alive and completely unfit to rise. _And_ your Captain failed to mention you were wounded. What in all of heaven happened to you, Elessar?" He made his way to Aragorn's side and lowered himself to one knee beside him.

"A warg," he replied, trying to force his voice into normalcy.

"What—"

Aragorn held up his hand for a moment, interrupting him, and then glanced at his men. "Please," he replied to Hildanir, and both Mennev and the Lieutenant stepped outside, allowing the two kings to speak in private.

"One warg attacked you and this is what happened?" he asked. "It should have taken at least three or four to do this much damage. Head in the clouds again, hmm?"

"Have you met Ghashbûr, his people?" Aragorn asked. "I was hoping that you, too, would lend them as much aid as possible."

"I will," he replied. "You have my word, of course. I have met them. Arriving at an odd hour of the morning will do that; they thought us a war party. I intend to send word to the Lonely Mountain and to Dale; if they are aware of the situation, they might also send aid for rebuilding. Do you intend for your men to stay long?"

"As many as are willing," Aragorn said, trying to rest his muscles, regain his strength. He was still trembling from the encounter with the wall; he had never been unable to reach Arwen like this before, and his pain was almost absurd; he needed to rest and soon.

"The Easterlings were very cordial and grateful to Tauriel and her guard for their assistance in the fight. And speaking of her," he said, nodding to Aragorn's wound wrappings, "this appears to be her handiwork."

Aragorn nodded carefully. "Yes, she was here not long ago."

"I have yet to see her," Thranduil said, frowning. "She has not seen fit to grace me with her presence. Though I will admit to being more lenient with her than I have been in the past. She is more headstrong than Enguina, I think, and only growing worse with age."

"She is…with Erumar."

Thranduil stared at him. " _Erumar_?"

"I am certain of it."

" _Erumar_ is _here_?" he asked, incredulous. "Among your _war_ party?"

Aragorn could not smile, no matter how he tried. "You should have seen her with a bow. Tauriel took her under her wing."

"Oh, she would, would she not?" he said, sighing. "Ah well, whenever she would have come to Lasgalen, she would have met her, so there was no escaping it. All who come to spend time with Tauriel enjoy her company; it is the way of things. Why is Erumar here among you? I thought she was to remain in Ithilien for a time?"

"She came for you," he said softly, and then he had to look away from Thranduil's penetrating eyes, once again feeling the shame of what he had done. He swallowed hard. "She traveled with us to come to Eryn Lasgalen, to come on your invitation."

"What is the matter?" Thranduil asked, studying his face. "You are not yourself. This is more than the pain you are clearly in."

"I…I hardly know what to say to you," he whispered, pain filling his heart at the memory of Arwen's agony. "It is nothing less than a gift that you have come now, when everything here has gone to _hell_." He groaned the last word, his left hand finding his heart as his eyes closed. "I need you to finalize things with the Easterlings. I must return to Gondor… _tonight_ if I can."

"Gondor? _Tonight?_ " Thranduil asked incredulously and feeling a bit like a mockingbird. "You can hardly _move_! You could go tonight were you traveling in the bed of a cart, perhaps, but certainly not on horseback! Speak plain, Elessar."

"Arwen is in terrible danger, _agony_ ," he said, his voice catching. "Her need is great; I must go to her. This cannot wait."

"Arwen? How can you know this?"

"She and I share a…bond…a connection. It has been…severed somehow," he said. "I feel nothing from her but a wall."

" _Nothing?_ " Thranduil repeated, alarmed. "What does such a thing mean?"

Aragorn chewed his lip. "I do not know. I _do_ know she was in agony before the connection failed…and I am certain that it is because of… _of something I have done_." He whispered the last words, hardly able to think about his hands on Erumar, her body astride his.

"What have you done?" he asked. "What could disturb you more than the loss of this connection? Speak."

"Tauriel is with Erumar because she is unwell," he said softly, and Thranduil appeared confused.

" _You_ made Erumar unwell? How so?"

"I did not make her unwell," he said, "one of my soldiers did under instruction from one of the Ruling Council in Minas Tirith." He swallowed hard, trying to control and collect himself. "As you know, Arwen and I have been unable to have a child, so the Council thought it would be fitting for me to conceive a child in the arms of another. They chose someone who they could be sure had already had several children, someone of Elvish blood and dark-haired and…they found a match in _her_ …in Erumar."

"But Arwen is…" Thranduil hesitated, then asked a question instead, plowing onward. "Why would this man make Erumar unwell? And what have you to do with it?"

"She was…drugged…most heavily. Ethring, the soldier at fault, forced a substance on her that made her obedient to his will and…lustful." He whispered the word; he did not have the courage to meet Thranduil's eyes, but he had to tell him what he had done. Thranduil needed to know, for when he would see Erumar, he needed to understand the place in which she now was, and he needed to understand her hurt and what she had done, even unknowingly. As old and experienced in life as Aragorn was, he found this talk about betraying his wife beyond his ability to express; it brought his heart incredible pain. _Oh, if she had felt him, if she knew!_ "Erumar came to me," he said, his voice catching, "under control of this drug, and seduced me. And…and I…being under control of the same…fell into her arms."

Thranduil stared down at him, his mouth tight as anger erupted inside him. "You…" he could barely get the words out. Not only had the man dishonored Erumar, a woman he had come to know well, had come to understand her heart, the man had also committed adultery against the Evenstar of their people. All those with Elvish blood understood such a sacrifice as she had made for this man; for him to betray such love, such sacrifice, was unforgiveable, was worthy of death. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

" _Did you lie with her?_ " he snarled, a shadow crossing his face such that few had seen.

Aragorn's grief was upon him, a ton of rocks sitting on his chest; he could barely breathe, stumbling over the words in his humiliation. " _I did not…but we came so close…_ " He lowered his face, unable to look up, staring at his hands as his eyes filled once again. "I _kissed_ her…I _desired_ her…I looked upon her with longing in my heart, with unfaithfulness in my mind. All I could think of was _her_ …and I _touched_ her over and over…my skin _burns_ with the memory of her against me. _I touched her_." He repeated the last words, horror in his voice. " _I_ touched her…with my own hands, my own heart, my own thoughts, I have betrayed my _beloved_." His voice broke, and he lowered his face into his trembling hand, trying to get control over himself, his emotions.

With Aragorn's first admission that he had not actually bedded Erumar, Thranduil felt acute relief. Yes, what had happened was awful, but now that he could see past his own anger, he could come to the realization that it was not _Aragorn's_ fault…nor, did it appear, was it Erumar's. _Gondor_ must pay, not the man before him who was so distraught that Thranduil, for a moment, could think of nothing comforting to say. He reached out and laid his hand on Aragorn's left shoulder.

"This was a terrible thing to be done," Thranduil said, his voice soft, "but it was not your fault. You, and Erumar both, were forced into this against your will. Anyone who knows either of you, of your character, would know this was not truth." _Except me, it appears…as I overreacted…_

Aragorn lifted his head, tears on his face. " _I_ betrayed her, Thranduil. What I _felt_ …"

"Would Erumar have come to your bed before this? Would you have asked her, sought her out? You are no adulterer, Elessar. You have not lost your honor, nor thrown Erumar's into question. Both of you were deceived against your will. You cannot lay blame with yourself; you must lay it on the man who did this, the _men_ who did this."

"She is my _wife_ ," Aragorn gasped, looking down at his own fist, his wedding band upon his hand. "I pledged myself to be true to _her_ , and her _alone!_ Does that mean nothing? The world has gone _mad!_ Nothing on the earth matters more to me than her heart, her love— _what have I done?_ "

"You are no longer among the elves, Elessar," he stated. "These men do not value marriage and fidelity as we honor it. You do; when you return to Minas Tirith, Arwen will understand what they tried to do. She would never believe lies about your unfaithfulness." He looked at him with a firm gaze. "You must set aside your guilt. You must have stopped, fought the drug enough to regain control. That means something. You are still the man you were."

"I wish I could forget," Aragorn replied. "I wish I could wash away the memory of what…of what she did…how she touched me. My skin crawls…"

Thranduil tilted his head. "How is she?"

Aragorn understood what he was asking. "I…do not know."

He met the man's eyes. "You have not seen her. When did this happen?"

"Before dawn," he answered. "I…could never face her now. Not now…not when this is so fresh, like a gaping wound in my chest. I would never be able to look into her face, or she into mine."

"She will think you despise her if you do not."

"I do not!" he cried, turning his face away. "It was not _her_ fault, and I do not blame her. I cannot encounter her, comfort her in her shame, until I have found a way to handle my own. Can you not _understand_ , Thranduil?"

He _did_ understand, but that would not lessen the blow on Erumar's heart. He could not, however, think of any way to bring the two of them together. If Erumar was ill, and Aragorn was wounded, both needed to stay where they were for the time being. He studied Aragorn's pale face. "You are in a serious condition," he said gently. "You need to lie down and rest."

Aragorn did not argue, and laid down with Thranduil's help but did not close his eyes. "Thranduil, if you go to her, please understand, she will be in no place to—"

"I know," he said. "I understand what has happened, what she will be feeling. You need not worry about me; I am far older and wiser than you; give me some credit, my boy. You, however, desperately need rest, and a change of bandages, I think."

"Will you do something for me?" Aragorn asked, staring into his eyes. Thranduil could tell that Aragorn was weak; if he did not close his eyes soon for sleep, he would faint into it.

"If it is within my power to command it."

"Help the Easterlings," he pleaded. "They are a good people, though wary; take command of my men, and use them as you need. Whoever chooses to stay may stay."

"You speak as though you are not in command. You will be well again, soon," Thranduil said, his voice now concerned. Aragorn closed his eyes and let a breath out slowly.

"I…cannot stay here. Not for much longer."

Thranduil stared at him, and shook his head though the man could not see it. "Of course," he said soothingly. "I am certain that you will be riding to Minas Tirith any day now," he added, and he reached out, laying a hand on the man's shoulder again. "Rest now, Elessar."

He waited until he was sure Aragorn was asleep before he stood and stepped to the entrance to the tent. Heading outside, he stopped between Mennev and Hildanir. "The King is resting," he stated as the two men listened carefully. "Elessar seems to think that he needs to ride to Minas Tirith." He shook his head as Mennev stared at him as though he had three heads. "He must not do this; what Elessar needs is to _stay_ down. He also needs to remain undisturbed, and he needs his wound wrappings changed by someone who knows what they are doing. I will attempt to send the Captain of the Wood this way." He looked firmly into their faces. "By no means is he to attempt to leave that tent. He is not well, and his wounds will only worsen if he does not rest."

"Aye," Mennev agreed. "He's already done too much."

"My Lord Thranduil," Hildanir said softly, "has the King placed you in command of our men?"

Thranduil eyed him. "I will not take command yet, until it is certain that Elessar will not soon. He is weak; he needs rest. We shall assess the situation tomorrow after he is rested."

"We will follow your command, King Thranduil. We will safeguard the King."

"Good," he replied. "Let me see to Tauriel, and later perhaps, we shall sit down with Ghashbûr and discuss the future."

"Most of the men are still sleeping in from last night's celebration," admitted Mennev. "I'm sure they'd welcome the continued rest."

"I am certain they would, Captain. I will send word for you later, when I am ready."

"Yes, my Lord."


	42. Chapter 42

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Have a blessed day tomorrow! :O) Thank you, as always, for reading!

* * *

They were late, naturally, but Legolas and Enguina had enjoyed being late; knowing that Arwen would not mind made them hurry even less. There was no doubt that it was dinnertime, not lunch, but they laughed as they came up on the porch of the King's House, simply enjoying their walk in the brisk October afternoon. A guard stood about twenty feet away, but as they did not know him they did not interrupt his duties.

"I cannot wait to tell Arwen what you did," Enguina giggled, leaning against him. "She will laugh at you, just as I did." Legolas knocked upon the door and glanced down into her face.

"Some things should be for us, you know," he said, raising his eyebrow.

She knew he was teasing her, but she blushed anyway. "I do not share _everything_ with Arwen. Honestly. Only…certain things that I cannot help but share. You certainly have no secrets from Aragorn, yes?"

"Of course I do," he said, glancing back at the door. "Enguina, no one tells someone _everything._ " She leaned into him, slipping her arms around his waist as they looked into each other's eyes.

"I hope, my dearest Prince, that you tell me everything."

She could see his mind racing behind his eyes. _Do I have secrets from you?_ The thought echoed in her mind, and she thought it almost comical that he was trying to be sure that he did not. "I do not…I can think of nothing that I have tried to hide from you."

"Secrets, as Arwen said to me before, never help at all. I found that out first hand."

"Yet _she_ is still keeping things only to herself," he pointed out. "Odd how that works, is it not?"

"Mmm…yet I think that I might make you uncomfortable if I told her _certain_ things."

Legolas smiled at her. "I have known Arwen for so long," he replied, "that there is probably nothing that you could tell her that would embarrass me for very long."

"I am certain I could think of a thing or two!"

Legolas reached out and knocked on the door again. "Arwen!" he called. This time, Enguina stayed silent as the two waited for a response. "Strange…" He tried the doorknob—locked. That surprised him, as he could hardly remember a time when the door had been locked. He leaned over to glance in the window.

" _Legolas_ ," she chided him. "Perhaps she did not sleep well again and she is inside resting. I would not want to disturb her." Legolas frowned thoughtfully.

"Perhaps she was out and about today in the City," he said softly.

Enguina leaned her head on his shoulder and he slipped an arm around her waist. "I would not wish to wake her. What should we do?"

"I think," Legolas replied, in that same soft voice, "that we should go and find dinner at one of the delicious taverns down below." Enguina appeared as though she wanted to go, but was also hesitant. "What is it, my dove?"

"It might be far," she said, not wanting to sound as though she were complaining.

"One level down only," he insisted, "two at _most_. Not too far. I want to keep an eye on those lovely feet and ankles. Perhaps we can check the stable on the way down as well; she might very well be with Asfaloth. If not, we shall stop again in the evening on our way back."

"That was well-planned."

"You enjoy all of my ideas."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Not _all_ , dearest Legolas. "But most."

"To dinner then?" he asked, extending his arm.

"To dinner," she replied, and the two of them stepped down off the porch.

* * *

This was only the second moment out of an indefinite length of time that Arwen surfaced out of the deep, dark pit in which her mind hung. The first had been so brief that she could not even recall that it had happened, never mind why. Here, now, she heard voices, calling something that her mind would not comprehend. She could never have responded even had she wanted to, her mind could not have strung two words together. She felt as though every limb was so heavy that she could not move them; thought had become impossible. There was no chance in recognizing the time or hour of the day—everything was dark before her eyes. She did not know how long she had been awake, how long she had been lying on the cold floor, or how long she might stay this way.

Somewhere near her head she felt scratching fingernails, sharp, jagged, and digging holes in her scalp. They were so twisted in her thick hair that she might never get them out. She could barely feel them anyway. Arwen's chin was somewhere around her knees, which were so tight to her chest that her breasts ached and her muscles were screaming in agony; yet she could not pull them away. There was a strange noise coming from somewhere, and then, in a completely detached way, she realized that whimpering was hers.

There was no chance the resurfacing of anything resembling 'awake' was going to last longer than those few seconds. Her fingers dug painfully into her head, her face, every muscle tightening and trying to pull in on herself—almost to take her whole body and turn it inside-out. _Knives_ were stabbing her, over and over again into her heart, a hammer to her stomach knocking the wind out of her again and again. Nothing could stop this. There was no comfort, no help, no way out for her.

 _Aragorn._

His name floating to the surface of her mind shattered what little bit of her still held on to that shred of surfacing to the real world and that what she had felt had not been real. There was another wail, a keening that fell only upon her deaf ears and she returned to the pit of darkness once more, lost in her own grief.

* * *

Tauriel sat beside a sleeping Erumar, her hand resting on the older elf's, her thumb rubbing the bruised skin upon her wrists. It was clear that at some point, Ethring had restrained her and she had tried to get loose, more than likely an effect of the drug. She was glad to be here with Erumar, to talk her into dressing, into resting; she did not wish her to be alone, and the woman had more than enough guilt to be handling just now. There was no reason she should suffer in silence of loneliness, feeling as an outcast. They had spent an hour or so talking quietly about things that did not really matter, but it was nice to find out who she really was, to get to know her a bit.

Everything she had wanted to learn more about from Aragorn, she had finally learned from Erumar. She had learned about Haldir's death; she had learned about Erumar's meeting with Thranduil; she had learned more about Legolas, and Enguina, Erumar's near-sister. She had learned more about their home in Ithilien…and had taken Erumar's mind off both her feverish state and her seduction of Aragorn that she blamed herself for. There was nothing that she could say that was going to take that off her heart; that was something Erumar would need to forgive herself for. It would take time.

The tent flap moved slowly, and she turned her head in surprise to see Thranduil, her King, entering the tent. She released Erumar's hand immediately and stood, leaving her side to take a knee, her hand coming to her chest—painfully. In such a position for so long, it was the first time she thought about her own wounds; she had not since she had dismounted from her horse and discovered Aragorn was wounded.

"My Lord Thranduil," she whispered, and he allowed the flap to close behind him. "I beg your forgiveness for not seeking you out to report immediately, as soon as I heard you had arrived. It was wrong of me to—"

"I have heard your name mentioned with praise within the encampment," he interrupted her gently. "The people, Easterling, Gondorian, or Elven, speak your name with pride, and also with fear and respect." He came directly to her side and reached down, tipping up her chin with two fingers. "You have done well, Tauriel. I am impressed, as always, with the strength and courage you show; you are a guiding light for our people. I am…grateful for you."

She was embarrassed by his words, her face heating up beneath his praise. "My Lord, I…I know not what to say," she murmured, stunned by approval she had not expected. She had expected irritation, possibly a 'where have you been', but not this. "I am…proud to be your servant."

"Servant?" he said, his voice still soft. "No, you have become as a daughter to me. One day, I hope I shall be the King that you deserve, the King you chose to serve these many years." He reached down and drew her to her feet.

"You already are," she insisted, and she finally looked into his face. "Have you brought aid for the Easterlings? They have many who are in serious need."

He nodded. "Several of your Lieutenants are seeing to the sick, the wounded, with more medicines and food than they expected. Though, the Easterlings eyes search for you most of all; they had much praise for you and those who assisted you."

"Erumar…" Tauriel said softly, and she looked back toward her. Erumar's back was to them as she lay on her side sleeping, but Tauriel studied her. "She…was a great help for the sick and wounded, though she said she was not a healer, and she did well with a bow in the battle, though she did not come to fight." Thranduil nodded, appearing surprised. Tauriel smiled to herself, but looked down towards Thranduil's boots so she could not see his face. "Erumar said that it was you who invited her to Lasgalen."

"She was telling the truth," he admitted, and she could not help the way her face lit up even when she still did not raise her eyes. It was clear that he pretended not to notice. "She had never been to Eryn Lasgalen, and I thought it a good time to offer…perhaps she could grow to enjoy it there." He looked over Tauriel's shoulder toward Erumar. "How is she?"

"Ill," she said softly. "Did—"

"He told me everything," he interrupted softly.

She nodded. "She had four doses of the aphrodisiac," she explained, "and her body did not take well to it. It was very strong."

"Four doses? One was too much and yet he gave her more?" Thranduil asked, his voice sharpening. "Even when he wanted to use her? Tales of dishonorable men leave a rotten taste in my mouth."

"And mine," she agreed. She watched him looking at Erumar. She had never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at her. He was not… _pining_ exactly. Thranduil clearly had enjoyed her company when they had been in Ithilien, and Tauriel, though she did not want to say anything yet, was so glad of the change in him. "You are quiet," she told him, and looked back to her.

"Am I? I did not notice."

"Distracted, I suppose."

"Distracted?" he asked, and even his tone appeared to be unfocused as he genuinely smiled at her. "I…did not think that would be the word. Worried…yes, thinking of…things…yes." He shook his head. "Has she been awake for long?"

"She still needs rest," she admitted, "but she has been awake for a few hours, closing her eyes for a few minutes in between." She sighed gently. "How was Elessar when you saw him?"

"In pain, and feeling something about Arwen that cannot be explained, but also cannot be acted upon. There is nothing anyone can do a month's ride from Minas Tirith. And he needs your hands—his bandages must be changed by someone with skill. That would be you, my dear."

Tauriel nodded. "I will go at once, and I need to find Caswera. Someone needs to stay with Erumar while I am away; she may wake and I…do not think she should be alone."

"I will stay with her," he said, and she stared at him though he hardly noticed. He went to her side and as it appeared, he only had eyes for her. "Until your return."

It was not just the words he spoke, it was the weight of what was behind them. Tauriel herself was the only woman, aside from his own wife, that had been terribly wounded or ill whom he had sat down beside, and even when he had been with her he had kept his distance. Here, at Erumar's side, he came and took one knee, taking a place very similar to Tauriel's when he had arrived. She watched him have a clear inner debate with himself about whether to touch her hand or not; the gentle part of his soul that was _so rare_ finally came out. For the first time in nearly sixty years, she saw him as he really was; just a lonely man who had lost his wife and was finally beginning to understand once again what it was like to care for another. She had tears in her eyes when he finally took Erumar's hand in his own.

"She blames herself," Tauriel said softly. "If she wakes, you should know that she blames herself for what happened with Elessar. It will not be easy to set right."

"He does as well. I hope the two of them can soon look one another in the eye and put this misunderstanding to rest. Something tells me…it will not be that easy. That is all it is, though," he replied, looking up at her, seeing the expression upon her face. "What is it, Tauriel?"

She shook her head. "I have never…I have never seen you so attentive with a person," she said, almost shyly, as though speaking the words aloud would somehow diminish the event. "I think it is beautiful." He looked at her, surprised, unable to think of what he should say. Tauriel smiled, blushed, lowered her head, and then muttered softly beneath her breath, "I will return when the King is bound, my Lord. Good afternoon."

She was gone before he could say another word, but he had seen the tears in her eyes. He wondered at them, wondered at her words, though he knew that even his own son had made comments to him before he left. He _was_ attentive to her, and he was worried for her as well. Reaching down with his other hand after making himself more comfortable by being seated on the ground, he easily lay a hand on her forehead, noticing that she was still warm. Obviously, whatever she had was dying down now, but he was still astounded at the audacity of the Gondorian who had made her this way. Anger fired through him; he was glad that _he_ had not encountered the man who was to blame for this. A beheading might have been in his future if _he_ was his king.

He looked down upon her and felt sick at what she was probably feeling. He could never imagine attempting to seduce someone…he pictured himself with Enguina…and what Legolas would _do_ to him if he had ever found out. Arwen would not be so violent, but the devastation would be the same, the hurt and pain. His hand tightened in Erumar's; he was _fiercely_ protective of her, though he had to assume it was because of his own wife, because he had experienced this worry before—though hundreds of years ago. Sweat was dripping down her forehead; Tauriel was right that she was clearly not over whatever was affecting her. Her body was trembling, even in sleep. He gently wet her face, and her head turned towards him. What he thought was coincidence was not. Her eyes blinked and opened at the movement, and he nearly startled, confused. _She is awake?_

 _ **Thranduil?!**_ The word shot through her head so fast she was transfixed by his eyes as she caught them. She had not heard any words, but as soon as she had woken, she had known the hand in hers was not Tauriel's. A million thoughts struggled through her head trying to take precedence over the others: sheer panic— _what_ was he doing at her bedside; shame—how could he see her this way, in this state, after what she had _done_ ; relief—his presence was comforting, it always had been; turmoil—was she happy to see him; fear—did he _know_ what she had done? Within this feverish state, she felt every emotion ten-fold. It was the shame that won out; nothing could compete with it. Her eyes closed as tears flooded them, unable to bear having him look at her or to look upon him.

"What happened with Elessar was not your fault," he said gently. He had not wanted those to be his first words, but that was what she needed to hear. The muscles in her body were tight; if she could have run from him, she would have. "You are guilty of nothing."

"I am guilty of _everything_. We _both_ are," she stated, her voice thick. "To commit _such_ a sin, against _her_ … _I am an adulterer._ "

"No," he said, dropping the cloth as he laid his hand against her cheek and wiped away her tears, "you are not; it was not you who came to him. You were sent and forced and are now paying the price for one man's decision to force another to do his will." He squeezed her hand. "Will you look at me, please?"

She did not want to; she was surprised she could even get the courage to do so. As she met his eyes, she saw compassion there, not pity.

"You were caught in the middle, Erumar," he told her. "You were caught in the middle of a game the Ruling Council of Minas Tirith decided to play with their King. Thankfully, you were both able to come to your senses before—"

"I did _not_ ," she refused. "Aragorn must have hit me in the head to stop me." She lifted a shaking hand to her temple, wincing as her fingers reached the place. "I remember every moment of what I did, Thranduil," she continued, tears filling her eyes again. "The way I put my hands on him, came on to him…as though there was no one else, as though Arwen did not even exist. It was _wrong_. It was so _wrong_!"

"But not your fault," he reminded her. "Yes, it was wrong, but there was nothing you could have done against such a drug, Erumar. You are innocent in this; Elessar does not blame you. You must…you must forgive yourself."

She stared at him. "You are wrong," she stated. "Aragorn _must_ blame me, and he should. He should not forgive me for this. Not ever."

"He already has. He blames the one who should be blamed—Ethring, the man who carried out the orders." He hid his own anger; she did not need to see it.

She choked on her tears. "I thought he was a good man," she whispered. "I thought he cared for Gondor, and then he cornered me and…he _bound_ me…" His fingers traced the burns upon her wrist where the rope had held her, to keep her from hurting herself after the first dose. She shuddered. "He told me that I would bear Aragorn a child," she murmured with horror. "It was _despicable_."

"Elessar explained what happened," he told her. "It is not necessary for you to relive it unless it will help you."

"No, reliving it makes it worse. At least he had enough honor to save me for Aragorn," she said bitterly, rubbing tears off the cheek where Thranduil's hand was not. "Otherwise, I could have been _his_ lover as well."

"You were not Elessar's lover. And though you seek to mock," he replied gently, "what you just spoke is a positive in an otherwise bleak situation, and _you_ found it, not I. Therefore, I will thank Ilúvatar for small miracles." He brought her hand to his lips and she shook her head at him.

"How can…how…" She had no idea what she had meant to ask.

"I know this is not the way I intended to greet you," he admitted, "but I am very grateful you are here. I could never have hoped you would come this soon, and I thought that eventually when you did that you would be riding into Eryn Lasgalen on your chestnut mare. Obviously, I was incorrect." He gave her a soft smile. "I should never have assumed, after everything else that he has done, that I would ever understand or grasp even a hint of Ilúvatar's plan."

She could not help but sniff and give a little smile herself, even in the midst of what she was feeling. She felt him wipe her cheek and she wiped the other. "No. I must agree that I have not even the slightest idea what he has been doing."

"You have spent time with Tauriel already. Your thoughts?"

"I knew her when I first saw her solely from your description," she said. "She is so _young_ , and yet she amazes me with her skill and her thoughtfulness toward others. She is _kind_ ; you did not mention that."

He looked down. "Sometimes I…miss what matters most about others. Sometimes I see only that which makes the Wood stronger. Tauriel is a warrior; that is what I most often see."

"And a healer," she reminded him. "She has both in her heart. I have enjoyed getting to know her, and I…hope there will be more time in the future, as I was here to come to Lasgalen." He reached over to get her a drink of water from the pitcher nearby.

"Do you feel well enough to sit up?" he asked solicitously.

"Maybe for a few minutes," she said, slowly shaking her head. "I feel…dizzy, light-headed."

"You are still feverish." He helped her sit up so she could drink, and she looked at him.

"I understand why Legolas and she were very good friends," she added about Tauriel. "I think Enguina would get along with her very well, indeed."

"That would be a disaster," he dead-panned, and she laughed softly as she continued to drink. "I am completely serious. Tauriel I have known for many, many years; Enguina, I have only known a short while and I can say whole-heartedly that would be two terribly stubborn individuals coming together as an unstoppable force. It would be frightening." She laughed again and he sighed, happy to change the subject and cheer her. "How is my son and his wife? Nearly two years have passed since I left them among the trees of Ithilien."

"Have you…have you had no word from them?" she asked, wondering what might have happened to the letter Legolas and Enguina had sent to him. This was the perfect subject to take her mind from the situation with Aragorn; she did not know if Thranduil knew that or if it was only coincidence, but she was grateful for it. "I _know_ they sent a message."

"These parts of the Wild have been dangerous. Perhaps the messenger was waylaid," Thranduil replied, watching her face closely. "Why…what do you not wish to tell me?" Now he was clearly worried. "Did something happen that I should—"

"Do not worry," she said, laying her hand on his, and he immediately stuttered to a stop. "I do not wish you to know afterwards if the messenger comes too late. You are certain that no word—"

"I am absolutely certain."

She smiled, and the hand covering his tightened. "You are to be a _grandfather_."

He stared at her. "I am… _I_ am…a grandfather? You cannot be—"

"I am completely serious!" She laughed at his expression. "Your son and his wife are with their first child!"

"This is…this is _incredible_ news," he replied, his mouth agape. "I hardly know what to say. When? When is the babe to be born?"

"She will be full term come the first week of November," she replied, unable to help but smile. "She is doing well, though a bit more carefree than she should be, I suppose. Legolas was to arrive in Minas Tirith not long after I made the journey; I hope they have already returned to Ithilien."

"They have been blessed," he said, astonishment in his voice. "I cannot believe…what a miracle it is that they are having a child already."

"I could hardly believe it either," she admitted, "when Legolas made the announcement to me."

"My son is to be a _father_ ," Thranduil said with wonderment. "He will be an excellent one; I have always told him that, even though he never had a desire to be wed in the past. I always thought he would be." He shook his head, staring at her. "You…I was down in the depths with your pain and now I am higher than the mountaintops. This day is so strange!"

She smiled. "When I think of them, it lifts my spirits as well and I do not feel so poorly, though I should lie back down," she admitted.

"Oh, of course," he said, and assisted her after taking the cup from her. "I take it then, you are not feeling any better."

"A little," she said, sighing. "I feel as though if I dwell on it too long, I shall forget all about the happiness of Legolas and Enguina and dwell on the shame I feel. I know I should not feel it," she said, stopping him before he could refute her, "but I feel it just the same. It is impossible to push away right now." She looked away from his eyes and then back again. "I may not be the greatest of company for you. You need not stay here with me."

It was Thranduil who looked down on their joined hands, thought about whether he should still be holding it and whether it was appropriate or not, and then decided he did not care if she made no move to take it from him.

"There is no place," he replied, "that I would rather be. I understand what you are feeling." He settled in next to her, placing another cool cloth on her head. "Let me take your mind away from the here and now. Will you tell me all you can about Legolas, Enguina, their home, and the child? I am pleading with you."

She smiled, deciding to try and stay focused on _him_. He was here with her now, not Aragorn or the situation in which she had found herself. "I will tell you whatever I can," she promised.

* * *

When Aragorn woke again, there were lanterns lit within the tent; it was clearly evening though he had no idea of the time. His chest was _roaring_ with pain, a clear sign that Tauriel had been there as Thranduil had said. He heard soft voices, and he cracked his eyes, spying both Tauriel and Hildanir standing near the opening of the tent. It was a sign of the condition he was in that he could not hear a word they were saying, and honestly, it did not matter at the moment anyway. He lay still.

His thoughts, his dreams, had been in every moment filled with Arwen. He saw her, lying beneath a cover of trees, her eyes closed, her face pale and thin. Was this a vision of the future? His worry plagued him, ate at him, and he could not possibly remain stationary for any longer. He _knew_ that this deception of the council, of Nardur, did not end here with Erumar and Ethring. There had to be more; the agony he had felt from her had to be Nardur's doing. What was he telling her? My god, _had_ she felt him, his passion for Erumar? Why could he not reach her? He had never been shut out like this before; he could hardly bear it. To not have her a touch away was the most awful feeling, as though someone had torn his heart out and he could not find it.

So he sat up, unable to control the groan that escaped his lips. He leaned heavily on his left arm for support, his right had been re-bound to his side. He pushed himself more upright, grasping the water skin nearby and taking a swig, the first drink he had all day. That was not healthy, and he would need to be sure that he took care of himself on the journey home…or he would not make it there. This he knew already.

"Elessar! What are you _doing_?" That was Tauriel, and he lifted his head to look into her face, Hildanir standing nearby with the same horror on his.

"It is time to go," he said stiffly. "I have spent all the time I can; I must return to Minas Tirith." Tauriel stared at him and began shaking her head, but it was Hildanir who spoke.

"My Lord, are you out of your _mind_? You cannot possibly go anywhere! In your condition—"

"My condition, such as it is, will need to work out itself," he replied honestly. "There is nothing else to be done. I _must_ go."

"The Elf-King gave strict orders that you were not to leave the tent, and you were not to be disturbed. He said—"

"The King cannot stop me," he said, and though his voice was gentle there was steel behind it. "The King does not control me, and cannot understand what I have…what I feel, what I have experienced. He knows what to do here, _you_ know what to do, and Mennev. Everything else can be cared for."

"Elessar," Tauriel said, extending a hand palm down, "you need to _rest_. You _must_ be in pain; your wounds are still—"

"I cannot stay," he said again. "There is nothing I can do but ride. I cannot stay here one more moment." He made to shift his weight to his left so he could use his strong side to get to his feet.

"No," Hildanir said firmly, putting a hand firmly on the man's shoulder to hold him down. "I will not allow you to kill yourself! This is madness!"

Aragorn's eyes darkened. It was the first time Hildanir saw the fury of the storm directed at him and it made him flinch. "Do _not_ hinder me, Hildanir," he stated. "If you will not help me, then for heaven's sake do not hinder me."

"Elessar," he said, trying to talk him down as the man leaned over to rise onto his knees, "please, be _reasonable!_ You cannot _physically_ do it. You _must_ not do it!"

Tauriel looked at him, incredibly worried. "I must agree with the Lieutenant," she said. "I do not see what you hope to achieve by this."

"You cannot understand what I am feeling, neither of you can!" he growled, though his response was out of pain in his hip, not anger. "Arwen is in danger! I have felt it! I know it!"

"The Queen?" asked Hildanir, swallowing hard. There were a few moments that passed simply out of shock; then he stumbled over his words. "But…if that is true, my Lord, then forgive me, but what good is it for you to turn back now? We are nearly a month's ride from Minas Tirith, perhaps more, and yet you are still to return? If she has been attacked, I do not think that she will…that she will be…that she will still be—"

"Only believe, Hildanir," Aragorn replied, getting to his feet with a struggle even though Tauriel stood nearby. Though she could see he clearly needed her, she continued to stare at him in surprise. "I must make it in time, therefore I will. Ilúvatar will give us the speed."

"It is not the speed!" Hildanir cried. "It is your condition!"

"Hang all of it!" Aragorn barked, frustration peaking. "There is nothing else to be done! It is _Arwen!_ _Arwen!_ I can do nothing else but ride to her! My heart is desperate for relief, and she is the only one that can provide it!" He looked to Hildanir, his eyes so full of desperation that the man could do nothing but stare. "Will you help me or not, Hildanir?" The pain was too fresh to explain; how could he make Hildanir understand what he was feeling? It was impossible!

"Beyond my sound judgment," Hildanir whispered, "For the sake of my Lady, I will do as you command. But this is…this is folly, Elessar. We are doomed to fail in our quest before we reach her. You are in no condition—"

"Go, now," he urged softly. "Prepare Brego, and bring him to me. You must tell no one else, for they will try to stop me."

"Are you…are you sure you are within your right mind, my Lord?" he tried one last time, his voice full of worry. "You are not mad?"

"On the contrary, Hildanir," Aragorn replied, "this is the first time my head has felt clear in days. _Go._ Hurry now." As the man left the tent, Tauriel watched as he reached for his sword belt, attempting to strap it to himself. It was utterly impossible; not only for the fact that he only had one usable arm, but for the fact that he could not have the weight upon his hip. Instead, he gave it up and simply stood with Andúril's sheath in his hand.

"Are there not limits to what a man can do?" Tauriel said softly from off to his left. "Even for love? Are there not limits?" She repeated the last, stunned at his determination. She had seen nothing in her life that could prepare her for this.

"There are no limits to what Ilúvatar can do, Tauriel; he will take me to her," he replied earnestly. "She is in pain, perhaps not physical, but emotional pain. Something terrible has happened, something the councilmen have done; if what has happened is what I fear…if she…" He could not finish the sentence. How could he say what he was thinking? They had spoken about this; Arwen had told him that she could survive as long as she was his, as he was hers. If she had _felt_ him, if she had felt his passion with Erumar, he knew exactly what would happen: her heart would break, and the words of Nardur's lies would give her no choice but to believe. She would suffer endless agony until she wasted away…and laid herself down to die. This could not happen!

"You would ride away under cover of darkness, like a thief in the night?" Tauriel asked. "You would not even tell your men of your departure?"

"Mennev, Thranduil, Ghashbûr even…would never allow me to depart," he murmured.

"Why should _I_?" she asked fiercely, suddenly. "You are going to kill yourself."

"Because there is a difference between what is _right_ and what is easy," he said. "Going to Arwen is right, but it is not easy. I want to curl up on that mat and remain there for the next terrible long count of days—but my heart will not allow it. You know it is the right choice to make, even if it kills me, Tauriel…and you will not stop me."

"I could," she stated. "Even if I would not do it, I could send the King to stop you."

"Tauriel, she is the Evenstar of your people," he whispered. "Would you see her lose her life in such a way as this, for this foolishness of the council, over a child?" He shook his head. "I cannot allow that; I cannot let them harm her the way they attempted to harm me."

"If you were only…if your condition was…" She shook her head. "How shall you ride? How shall you sit astride Brego? You can barely stand to put weight on your leg. And what if you encounter danger on the road? How shall you defend yourself?"

"Hildanir shall have to be enough. The Valar will protect us, I pray."

She could hardly think of what to say. "I do not know many men," she said softly. "I knew very few before Dale grew out of the shadow of the mountain, and now, even though I do know several more, there are none like you. I have never seen someone love so ardently, so completely with their whole heart that everything must be set aside except for that love; that it was so profound, so important that nothing else could stop them from seeking it, protecting it. You love so deeply for one of the race of men; perhaps that is because you are of the race of Numenor. I cannot understand it; I thought this was something only our race understood, experienced."

"She is my heart, Tauriel," he said. "I must protect her. Her well-being, her very life was entrusted to _me_. She is my wife; it is both my duty and my promise to cherish her heart forever. It is a sin against heaven to do otherwise. I can do nothing else…I must go to her."

"I will…help if I can," she replied, beginning to reach for several bandages. "Your journey will be long and you will need medicine and supplies to change your bandages. You must care for yourself, Elessar, or you will never make it to Minas Tirith." He watched her work and it made him feel guilty.

"You should not help me," he said. "Thranduil will be angry if he finds out. I was not asking for you to help me, only allow me to leave."

Her hands slowed, and then she looked at him seriously. "It would be wrong if I did not help you in whatever way I could. Once, I…made decisions, made choices for love…" she hesitated as he looked at her. He waited, wondering if she would say more, but then she shook her head. "I understand your decision; I would never forgive myself if something happened to her because you remained, even if I cannot understand how you will survive, how you will make it to Minas Tirith. I must help you, so I must hope, then, that the King will find it in his heart to forgive me."


	43. Chapter 43

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! :O) And happy reading!

* * *

After a good night's sleep, Legolas and Enguina were intentional about being at the King's House early enough for breakfast—in fact, they were _too_ early. Even pausing at the door last evening had given them no answers, and when they had spoken to Liakas, he had only stated that he had not seen her return as the guard shift had changed, though perhaps she was very tired. Legolas had thought this very odd, but he had not wanted to worry Enguina. Little did Legolas know that nothing else had been on her mind for the past hours aside from what Arwen was doing, and why they had not seen her in nearly two days. She was determined to see her best friend this morning.

Walking barefoot and arm in arm with Legolas, she leaned into him and sighed, the King's House in sight. He smiled to himself and turned his head so he could kiss her forehead. "What is it, love?"

"I was only thinking," she said softly as she rubbed her belly absentmindedly. "I was thinking about Arwen and wondering where she was yesterday."

He nodded. "You can ask her when you see her," he replied. "I am sure she will have a very good answer." He doubted she would.

"It was strange, though? Was it not?"

The two of them walked up onto the porch and he nodded in agreement just before Enguina knocked, expecting to hear a reply from inside. When there was nothing, she tried the door. It was _still_ locked. She swallowed and insistently shook the door handle.

"Enguina," Legolas scolded her gently, but it was clear when she looked back at him that there was worry in his eyes as well. She knocked again, loudly.

"Arwen!" she called, and this time she could not help the worry in her voice. "Come and let us in this instant!" There was no reply, and she laid her hand flat against the door. "Legolas…I…" She immediately looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "This is so unlike her."

"I agree," he said, "but perhaps she _was_ out very late last night and she decided to sleep in this morning."

"When has she ever locked the door? And we are speaking of _Arwen_ , Legolas. At this hour she would _never_ still be asleep, unless she was ill." She glanced back at the door. "I wonder where she could be. I am even more worried than I was last night." She glanced around. "And where is the guard? Should there not be one here?"

"Perhaps he was called from his post?" Legolas questioned. He looked at the door as well, his mind racing with possibilities. "Enguina, could it be that she went to the stables? Perhaps she is out for a morning ride and we have already missed her."

She turned towards him thoughtfully. "She actually may have done that," she admitted. "She probably did, in fact, and I am overreacting." She sighed, and then laid a hand upon his chest. "Would you…would you mind terribly—"

"No," he said gently, "I would not mind walking to the stable to see if Asfaloth is still there. In fact, I was going to suggest it myself, overreacting or no."

Her eyes brightened at the thought and then grew worried again. "If you _do_ go, and she is not there, where else do you think she might be?"

"I will check the gardens, on my way asking several of the guards. One of them is bound to have seen her on the move somewhere; she cannot have gone far. I will return shortly, so do not stray, my Guin." He leaned down and kissed her soundly, and then guided her to a seat on the front porch before the window. She caught his arm as he turned away and he looked back at her.

"Legolas," she added softly, "will you also ask Kithal, the guard at the Silent Street, if he has seen her? She promised she would never go there again alone, but…I want to be sure."

"While I am at the stables, I shall be sure she is not there." He gave her an encouraging smile and she smiled back, releasing his arm.

"Thank you for easing my mind. Baby and I will be right here when you return," she added as he stepped down from the porch.

He glanced back. "She will probably wake and open the door long before I come back," he said with a laugh. "But I shall do my best to find her in the meantime."

* * *

As it was, Arwen did not turn up in the stables.

Legolas was not too surprised by this. Lómë and Brethil were clearly miffed that he slighted them apples, but he had come to speak to Asfaloth, who did not tell him much. Though Legolas could not speak with the horses as Aragorn could, he knew the horse had not seen her at all since the night they had all been in the stable. His following stop, the Silent Street, was also fruitless, though he was relieved to hear that from Kithal. Heading toward the gardens, he stopped several guards who all replied that they had not seen her since the day before yesterday. That was highly suspicious, and it made him even less surprised but more worried when he did not find her within the garden.

 _Is it possible for the Queen of Gondor to have gone missing and for none to have seen her or even noticed that she has disappeared? Even with a guard before the King's House?_

Upon exiting the garden, he happened to see Noldore and Dintîr talking in low voices near the front steps of Ecthelion. Being that he had been wanting to speak to the men for several days and had not made the time, _and_ being that it was possible one of them may have known something about Arwen, however unlikely, he turned that direction instead of heading back toward the King's House. Dintîr looked as though he was riled up, and Noldore simply appeared downcast, saddened by whatever the two had been speaking of. As Legolas drew near, they picked up their heads and turned towards him, clearly attempting normalcy. In the state of concern he was in, that was not going to work.

"Prince Legolas," greeted Dintîr.

"Good morning," added Noldore, bowing his head.

Legolas bowed slightly to them as well. "Good morning, my Lords. How are you this day?" He glanced back and forth between them both. Both of the men were a little off balance from the unexpected intrusion, and he did not know them as Aragorn and Arwen knew them. He did however know _of_ them, and that would have to be enough.

"We are well," Noldore replied for them both.

"Who are you trying to convince, Noldore? Me, or yourself?" he asked, and Dintîr straightened at his tone. "I mean no offense, but it is obvious I interrupted a conversation about something serious."

"It…has been a trying week for the Council," Dintîr said, eyeing Legolas with something like worry. "We were trying to convince ourselves we wanted to go inside."

"Perhaps I can postpone your agony," Legolas offered. "I was wondering if either of you had seen the Queen this morning, or even yesterday. The Princess and I are looking for her and she does not seem to be at home…or in the least, she is not opening the door."

"We saw her five or so days ago now, Prince," Dintîr said, looking a bit guilty, "but we have not seen her since then."

Alarmed, Noldore stared at Legolas. "You have not seen her in two days? Where might she be? Shall we send the guards to search for her?"

"Let us not leap to conclusions," Dintîr suggested, though he appeared worried as well.

"I am going to return to the King's House now," Legolas said, "and break in if I must. I am afraid the Queen has not been sleeping well recently; perhaps she really _is_ still inside." Dintîr and Noldore exchanged a look that made Legolas's stomach drop. "You are hiding something," he stated, his eyes narrowing. "What is it?"

"I am afraid that I may have had a hand in that, and I am grievously sorry for it. The Evenstar believed it to be nothing," Noldore said, looking down before turning to face Legolas again, "but I shared some rumors that have been circulating within the Council…letters received from a Lieutenant within the guard that is a nephew to Councilman Nardur himself."

"From the front?" _Why did Arwen say nothing to us?_

"Yes," replied Dintîr with a miserable frown, "he shared some disturbing news. Noldore and I discussed whether the word that was given should be shared with the Queen or not for there have been many—"

"Rumors?" Legolas suggested darkly. "Yes. I confronted three councilmen about them only a few days ago. Something of the Lady Erumar…unquestionable lies." Both men looked a bit humiliated and he stared hard at them. "You mean to tell me you believe them?"

"We do not want to," Noldore said quietly, "but the evidence…"

"It is irrefutable, Prince," Dintîr said. "The Evenstar was angry that anyone would question Elessar's character, and when she found out that it was _Nardur's_ nephew who was sending the letters, she believed that they were untruthful to begin with. She wanted to confront him herself."

"Nardur? Who was this nephew? Someone reliable?"

"Usually someone beyond question; close to Elessar himself. Lieutenant Hildanir, who has become a close companion of the King."

Legolas appeared confused; he knew the name well as the man had attempted to save Enguina's life several years ago. "You received word from _Hildanir_ that…?" The two men exchanged another glance. "These rumors," Legolas continued instead, "are surrounding Aragorn and Erumar? They are about unfaithfulness and adultery, are they not?"

Noldore looked embarrassed, and Dintîr rushed to defend them. "You need to understand the light in which they were presented to us, Prince. There could have been no doubt that—"

"This is the _King!_ " Legolas snapped suddenly, tiring of all this nonsense. "Aragorn's character has always been unassailable; I put these rumors aside for they cannot be true. For nothing on _earth_ would he betray Arwen. I confronted Nardur myself about them only days ago when I had heard them, and threatened his life."

Noldore stared at him. "There was another letter received late last evening, stating once again the deed was done. According to Hildanir, they are not rumors; these are facts."

"To say such words is to not know the man."

"Prince, normally I would agree with you," Noldore replied. "I would never have believed such words about him, but…Nardur has proof that was left here with him, that he knew of this deception before the man even left the Citadel."

"No," Legolas said firmly. "He is a liar, and I shall put him to it. Where is he? Inside the Tower? Have you seen him these last two days?"

"Nardur would never openly harm anyone," Dintîr stated, staring at Legolas with nervous eyes. "He works _behind_ the scenes, sowing deceit where he cannot be seen. He would never lay a hand on the Evenstar!"

"Even if he has not seen her, I intend to finish these rumors once and for all and put an end to all of this madness. Enough with all of it! The King and Queen of Gondor deserve better, and this is an atrocity against them, and _his_ character, that I will not let stand. I warned him; now I will act on that threat if I must. Confrontation on this matter is necessary."

Legolas turned and took the stairs into Ecthelion two at a time. It was long past time for this man to be taken down from his pedestal.

* * *

Enguina had been sitting on the porch of the King's House for some time, waiting for either Arwen to answer the door or before she noticed that there were underlying noises breaking the day that she had not been hearing before. She had fully expected Legolas's words would become truth: that Arwen would appear, open the door, and apologize for over-sleeping. This did not happen. She began to hear soft thumps at one point, and then several minutes later a groaning noise, but she was unsure. Even though she could not place the sounds, in the pit of her stomach she began to feel truly uneasy. Something… _something_ was not right…and something told her that she had better pay some attention to it. Listening very carefully, she heard something else above the thumping, a muffled whimpering. As she became more attentive to it, she began to realize exactly _where_ it was coming from— _inside_ the King's House, not from without.

She was on her feet before she even knew what she was doing, what she was thinking.

"Arwen!" she called, and the urgency she felt, that was in her voice, frightened her. She reached for the door, banging insistently. There was no response, but standing near the door, she could hear the noises even more clearly; she simply knew something horrible had happened to her friend. She attacked the door with a sudden vengeance, throwing her shoulder against it and ignoring her own condition or any thought of taking it easy. Looking around for a guard to assist her, she saw absolutely no one—where _were_ they? That frustrated her ceaselessly when she needed to get inside this _instant_.

" _Arwen!"_ she cried out, her voice pitched high so she could be heard. Once again, there was no response, and she stared around the porch, even as she yanked the door handle. She pushed, she pulled, and she flung her weight against the door even harder. She had nothing with which to pry open the door, nothing to break the lock, _nothing!_ How ever was she to get inside?! Arwen was in _danger_! Now, she was quite certain of it!

There were very few choices left to her, so she just made one, brash though it was. Snatching one of the lightest-weight chairs from the porch, she hefted it over her head and hit the front door with it. The door did not give even a fraction of an inch; it would take her _forever_ to break inside. Instead, she turned toward the window and slammed into it as hard as she could. A second time she did it. Finally, on the third time, the window burst inwards, shattering all over the kitchen counter and floor. She dropped the chair and shoved it over to the window, climbing onto it. Reaching over, she knocked the last few bits and pieces of glass out of the edge of the window and then with some difficulty, hefted herself onto the ledge and tried to lower herself to the counter.

"Arwen?" she called again breathlessly as she lowered down, her bare feet sliding on the glass shards. She tried to ignore them but it was difficult when she hopped down to the floor, stepping on more of them. But how could she be concerned about that now? She looked around the kitchen where everything was dark and silent, but the sound of soft sobbing and moaning captured her attention again. Enguina crunched across the floor, hissing in pain, and then hurried from the kitchen to the sitting room where she quickly got sight of a figure lying curled upon the floor, barely feet from her.

" _Arwen…_ " she whispered, horrified at the sight before her. The light shone bright into this room from the back porch windows, and it lit the total chaos that stretched out before her. She froze half-way to her, hardly knowing _what_ to think.

A figure that barely resembled her friend lay on the wooden floor, face hidden within a mess of sweaty, tangled hair. Her hands were caught somewhere in the midst of it all, her arms scratched and bleeding in places; her dress was torn across the front, one shoulder torn off, and it exposed her legs to her thighs. Upon them Enguina could see deep claw-like marks from ankle to knee and knee to thigh as her knees were pulled up into her chest. Her whole body was shaking, her fingers so strained and tight within her hair that it appeared she was going to tear great chunks of it out. The whimpering coming from her lips broke Enguina's heart, but it seemed her friend had little idea she was there; she had not moved.

" _Ilúvatar, Arwen!_ " she cried, and her feet suddenly became unfrozen. She rushed forward and fell to her knees beside her. As she did, she noticed the floor around her, rivets and rents torn into the wood all around her, as if an animal had gouged them. Calling did not get her friend's attention; there was nothing that showed Arwen heard her or even knew she was there. Enguina reached out to touch her bare shoulder, but pulled her hand back; Arwen's skin was ice, as though every last bit of warmth had left her body. She was cold as death.

There were only two situations that Enguina could think of that could drive a person to a position such as this, and she did not want to imagine either one of them. The thought of such a possibility shook her to the core. This time when she reached out, she shook her shoulder.

"Arwen," she gasped, " _please_ , it is Enguina! Tell me what has happened to you! _Please!_ " There was still no response from Arwen, neither touch nor voice made it through. She tried to draw Arwen's hand down from her hair; it was so tangled and so tight she could not make her fingers release. She attempted to uncurl Arwen's body, to bring her knees down from her chest, to get her hands to release, to see if she was injured aside from the slashes across her arms and legs. _Ilúvatar! What is happening!?_

Suddenly, and not in response to anything she did, Arwen's head was flung back, and she let out a long wail, her face wet with tears, eyes clenched shut, her mouth open in the scream as her hands yanked within her hair. The hair rose on Enguina's arms and on the back of her neck, a chill firing through her body as Arwen's keening echoed inside her head, her pain stabbing her like a knife. With her head back, Enguina could see that her dress was torn down the front, her chest sliced in no particular pattern with dark, scabbed cuts. She began to notice the dried blood on her face, her hands, her chest, and even that stained the wood around her upon the floor and her dress.

Arwen's body thrashed, her legs hitting Enguina's knees even as she knelt beside her, her hands tearing out of her hair suddenly, strands ripping free as they came down tight across her bruised chest. Her breath was coming out in pants, her left cheek pressed to the wood, her mouth open; Enguina could hardly think what to do, almost completely transfixed at the sight of her friend in such a state. Arwen's body rocked slightly as her hands clutched her chest while Enguina said her name, over and over, holding her shoulder tightly and desperate to find a way to soothe her. Her eyes studied her friend's face, tear-streaked, gaunt, and pale…as though she had not seen the sun or had anything to eat in days and had not slept in all that time. Arwen's trembling fingers began spasming, her broken nails making fresh dents in her already slashed skin. Though her stomach flipped at the sight, Enguina reached forward and grabbed Arwen's hands in hers as she realized what she was doing to herself.

"Arwen, _no!_ " she cried, and she finally lost control over the horrible sight of what was really happening here. Her dearest friend in the world had finally gone to _pieces_ ; the vision of her lying there a complete mess burning itself into Enguina's mind, the horror of whatever this attack had been devastated her. She was absolutely terrified. What in the world had happened to her? What if she could not stop Arwen from hurting herself? What if she could not stop Arwen from hurting _her_? What if she lashed out and hit her or the baby?

There was nothing else she could do; _she_ was the one here, and _she_ was the one who needed to act. She would have to trust that Ilúvatar would care for the child as she needed to care for Arwen who desperately needed her right now. Arwen's arms continued to struggle against hers, and she did not have the strength to maneuver her anywhere. Instead, she shifted over behind her and pulled her over onto her legs, Arwen's back against the baby; she remained stiff, curled into as tiny of a ball as possible. Her body tightened, even as she was trembling and shaking in Enguina's arms as another wail came suddenly from her lips and she lashed out at her own chest again. Unable to hold her, Enguina slipped an arm between Arwen's body and her hands, allowing the younger elf to latch onto her instead; at least she was protecting her. Her body was convulsing as she began choking on sobs, the force of them rocking her back against Enguina's body.

Nothing she said could bring her back, nothing she did. Enguina was _desperate_ for aid; even as Arwen needed her, she did not know how long she would have the strength to do this. She prayed and prayed, and somewhere in the middle had the sense to reach for Legolas, even in her horror. If he could come, perhaps he could help her stop this, stop Arwen from hurting herself, get her to come back from this mindless, painful place where she was. Tears falling, she tried to stroke her friend's face with one hand as the other kept up the barrier between Arwen's hands and her chest. She rocked her, even as she prayed aloud for Arwen for peace and rescue from this awful situation.

" _Arwen…Arwen…_ " she whispered, holding her friend as tightly in her arms as she dared.

* * *

Legolas walked directly into the council room, not exactly storming but close. He stopped just inside the door, a stern look on his face. Every council member who was present lifted their heads to look at him, but the elf only had eyes for one man. "Councilman Nardur," he said bluntly, "I must speak with you, privately."

The man raised his eyebrows but stood from the table, indicating an adjoining room where they might speak. Legolas followed him inside and as soon as the door closed, he spoke again.

"We will have words," he stated, and Nardur narrowed his eyes at him. So much more hatred was open to them when there was no one around to see them. It was clear the man had not forgotten Legolas hanging him over the wall of the Embrasure.

"Will we?" Nardur asked. "And what is it you wish to have words about, Prince Legolas? Have you not already said enough?"

"Clearly not," he replied, standing close enough to tower over the man. "I have heard that rumors are still being spread. Several of the councilmen—"

"You mean to say Noldore and Dintîr," added Nardur.

"The very same, if names must be named," he snapped. "The sad part is that they believe all this nonsense that you have been spreading about the King, and I, for one—"

"The evidence is irrefutable, Prince," he said. " _That_ is why they believe. There can be no room for debate. I thought perhaps you may have even heard it from Arwen herself."

"You do not have the privilege of being on a first name basis with the Queen."

"A thousand apologies," he said contritely. "At any rate, there can be no contestation in the face of such truths."

"You have blinded them to the truth," Legolas said angrily. "I do not know how you have done it. Why? Why would you slander his name?"

"I have blinded no one," Nardur insisted. "They believe because it is true."

"What are they supposed to believe?" Legolas scoffed. "That the King's character has suddenly changed? That he betrayed his wife for another? That the Lady Erumar and the King are together now, that Arwen is nothing?"

"The Evenstar remains his wife, Prince. The Lady is simply the vessel for the heir, not his wife."

Legolas felt as though his head might explode. " _The vessel?_ "

"Yes, the vessel! The Lady shall carry the child, the Evenstar will remain Queen, and the child will become the next King of—"

"The illegitimate child?"

"None of Gondor will know that except those of the Council and a select few. The common man does not understand the inner workings of government; they do not understand that the King will do what he must to secure their future, even if it means sacrificing a bit of his honor to do it."

"The King would—you are a scoundrel and a liar!" Legolas snapped. "Why does anyone believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

"Because it is true. The King planned before he left, but not everything. My nephew, Hildanir, was simply the messenger. The King and I spoke personally about this before he left on journey."

"The King would never make plans with _you_."

"The Queen said as much to me, but I do not understand why it is so difficult to believe. Think, Legolas, _think_! The King knew what he was doing; he chose Erumar because she was so similar to the Evenstar in nearly every way: fair-skinned, Elvish, and dark-haired, just as Arwen. It was done to _protect_ her, done out of sight so that she would have as little pain as possible."

"Oh, why did he not simply talk it over with her first?" Legolas asked sarcastically. "I am sure she would have agreed with him."

Nardur smiled. "She _should_ agree with him; she _should_ understand why such a thing was and still is necessary. For the good of the Realm, the Reunited Kingdom needs an heir from their King, to carry on his line and his throne. It is very clear the Queen cannot provide him with one; this would ensure an heir."

Legolas narrowed his eyes, but it was useless to do battle once again over Arwen being barren; Nardur would never admit to anything other than that. It was time to return to a subject that he wanted to understand. "When was the last time you saw the Queen?"

"Several days ago," he replied, "when we spoke in Ecthelion, in the throne room." He eyed Legolas. "Why do you wish to know? Is she missing?" Legolas did not answer, but stared hard at him. "Perhaps she is avoiding all of you; she _does_ already know the truth, even though she did not choose to believe it. Even though he loves her, he is too wise to only make decisions based on love alone."

Legolas's blood boiled in his veins. "You are a _fool_ , Nardur," he snapped. "I have known Aragorn since he was a young—"

"How much proof do you need, Legolas? _What_ proof do you need? The last letter from Hildanir is within the Council chamber; I can get it if you wish to see it, but the others are here," he said, turning away to the desk nearby and drawing out a small object. "I also set this aside in the desk here for safekeeping. If you wish for proof that the King was intending something with Erumar, take this…he left it here in my keeping." He grabbed Legolas's arm and dropped the small, heavy item into his hand. "He said he did not want the reminder every moment when he knew what he was planning to do. If you do not know—"

"I know what it is," he replied, his voice soft, full of disbelief and shock. Legolas stared down at the object, though he did not need long. Wrought in silver, the very simple object was hugely significant, and he turned the ring over and over in his fingers. It was indeed Aragorn's wedding ring, and out of everything he had heard but did not believe, this object turned his heart to stone. He found it difficult to breathe.

 _Success!_ Nardur could have smiled, but he needed to play the game a little longer. "I know that it is upsetting," he said, "and his decision was not easy. But you must see the _reason_ for his—"

" _Reason?_ " Legolas whispered, his voice broken. "There can be no explanation for this. There is no way I could ever see a reason for tearing her world apart." His hand closed around the ring, and he looked up into Nardur's face. "You did not give this to the Queen…why?"

"It was in my keeping until the King's return," he replied. "I suppose I could have given it to her to convince her, but I thought it a bit much. I did not see it as something _I_ should hand to her."

"Yes, too much…" he said softly, staring back down at the ring that made his arm feel as though a huge rock was strapped to it.

"Would you want to give it to her, Prince?" he asked. "Perhaps she would understand if _you_ were to tell her the truth."

"The…truth…" His heart was breaking. How could he _ever_ tell her such a thing? It was impossible! He would never find the words: that the man who loved her more than his own life had done…had done _this?_ There was nothing more to be said to Nardur; he did not know where Arwen was, and Legolas could hardly speak with him anymore. What was the purpose to standing here any longer?

 _Legolas…Legolas…_

He heard the words along with a torrent of need, desperation. Enguina needed him. Had she found Arwen? He had no idea, but he needed to find out. His hand closed around the ring, knowing with near certainty that he would _never_ be able to give it to her.

"Good day, Nardur," he said, bobbing his head and turning. Then he was gone.

Behind him, the councilman smiled.

* * *

In Enguina's arms, Arwen had fallen silent. Enguina had no idea how much time had passed; she felt as though it had been hours. And where was Legolas? Arwen's whole body was still trembling, her hands gripping Enguina's arm, but she did not ask what the matter was. If Arwen could have spoken, Enguina believed she already would have. Instead, she simply continued to hold her close. She was terribly afraid to let go, afraid she would go into another panic attack or…whatever had happened to her.

"Ilúvatar, please," she pleaded. " _Please_ …I hardly know what to pray. _Help_ her; be with her, Author of Light and Hope. Give her your peace; help her come back to herself. Help her to know it is me, that I am here with her. You are the great Healer…whatever this is, make it _stop_." Tears filled her eyes. "I do not know how to help her! Please…please…help her!"

She stroked Arwen's matted, sweaty hair, hoping that she would respond in _some_ way, just to let her know… _what_ exactly? That she was all right? Clearly she was not. She was in a state that Enguina had never seen her. Always, Arwen had been the strong one, always the rock that Enguina could cling to, always _she_ had been the one that Enguina could reach out to for help. She did not know what to _do_ ; how could she comfort when she had no idea what was wrong? This was utter chaos; she knew very well that she would not be able to find out anything, to care for her without help. Arwen had _wounds…_ and she was unsure what she was more afraid of: that someone had done this to her or that she had done it all to herself.

" _Enguina!_ "

She heard his shout from a distance; Legolas clearly had seen the broken window and begun yelling for her. She heard another voice as well.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!"

"Where were _you_!?" the elf's voice snarled. "There is supposed to be a guard here always!"

"My Lord there was a disturbance on the sixth level and we were all called to—"

"Forget it— _Enguina!_ "

When his steps reached the porch, she called back to him, though her voice was not loud. "In here. I am inside." Her voice broke on the last word and she struggled to keep the tears off her face.

She heard him hit the door, attempting to open it; a muttered curse and glass crunching.

"Why is the window broken, Prince?"

"Because my wife clearly had need to break in." Legolas's voice was heated, angry. "Return to your post. If we have need of you, I will call for you."

"The Queen—"

"I will see to her."

Enguina heard more steps on wood, then glass, and then the unlocking of the door. He was inside. She felt acute relief that he was finally here; he had heard her calling him.

"Enguina, _what_ —" His words halted as he entered the room and saw the scene before him. " _Ilúvatar…_ " He was at her side immediately, his eyes fixed on Arwen in her arms, eyes closed and skin as pale as death, nails piercing Enguina's forearms. "What in the name of _heaven_ —"

"I do not know," she whispered, her hand smoothing her hair again as her tears fell simply from the relief of having him there. "I heard her crying…I had to get inside and I did not know what else to do!"

It was clear Enguina was frightened, her breathing was heavy, and Legolas reached out and settled a hand onto her shoulder, trying to calm her. "Is she—"

"I do not know!" she cried, her composure slipping away completely. "She has not spoken one word. It is as though she does not even know I am here, and I can barely support her anymore." Legolas reached out, but she shook her head. "I am afraid to let her go, Legolas! This is the first time she has quieted since I have been inside." Tears were spilling down her face now. "I thought she may have been asleep. I do not know what has happened!"

"Shhh…" he whispered, stroking her cheek. "Calm down…we will sort this out." She closed her eyes, trying to center herself, her arms aching. Legolas looked down into Arwen's face, her eyes tightly closed, red skin around them. "I do not think she is asleep, but I do not know if she can hear us. Something…something is terribly wrong…" A few rays of sun came in through the porch windows and he was able to truly see her condition. He could not help gasping. "Did someone _do_ this to her?"

" _God…_ Legolas, I…I think she may have done it to _herself_ …"

What would have ever caused her to do this? Enguina watched as Legolas dragged his fingers across the furrows in the wooden floor; his fingers fit them quite well, which only furthered her theory. Legolas's sharp eyes caught the torn nails and broken skin on Arwen's fingers, clearly destroyed from gouging the floor and her own skin. He could not imagine many things that would have caused her to do such a thing.

 _Oh…Ilúvatar, if she knows the truth_ …

"Let us not speak of what," he whispered. "Only Arwen can tell us that. We need to clean her up and take care of these wounds."

"Should we take her to the Houses?"

He shook his head slowly as he glanced around at her legs and arms; some were deep. He extended his arms again. "I think for the moment we should care for her. I am going to take her from you and carry her into the bath. Perhaps some warm water will bring her back to herself." Enguina was extremely reluctant to let her go, but he slipped his arms through hers and took Arwen into his own. She was as limp as a dead fish, and he lifted her easily and carried her into the other room; having no idea whether she was lucid or not, he lay her down on the rug inside.

His breath caught as he looked upon her from head to toe. It appeared as though she had not slept in days; the skin near her eyes was red around and dark beneath, everywhere else was pale unless red from scratches. There were furrows across her chest, arms, and legs. Her hair was matted and her scalp was bloody; nail marks and dried blood from her hands riddled her face from where she must have been grabbing. Her dress was torn down the front and up from the bottom, as if someone had been trying to tear it from her, the sleeves torn as well. Her hands were a mess and she was shaking like a leaf. This Arwen…he did not know her.

He began to remove the remains of her dress, but Enguina laid her hand on his shoulder. "Let me," she said, and he raised his head to look into her face.

"Can you?" he asked gently. He rose and took her arms in his hands.

"It _should_ be me," she replied and her eyes welled with tears again. "I _want…_ no, I _need_ it to be me. I need to be here for her as she has always been for me. Do you understand?" He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Of course," he replied. "Let me get you cloths and warm water…and some clothes for her. If you need help, I will only be in the other room working to clean up." He reached down and looked at her hands and arms, his eyes missing nothing.

"The blood is hers."

"And yours," he pointed out. "You broke that window open and cut yourself. And she was grabbing your arms so tight that you have bruising already."

She met his eyes. " _I had to get inside._ " He drew her into him for just a moment and felt her sob once—just once—before she could get a hold of herself. If she wanted to go to pieces, that was fine, but it needed to be later. She rubbed her face against his shoulder and then pulled back. "Do what you said, please, before I lose it…everything else I need is here."

Legolas did as he said he was going to do, leaving Enguina to care for Arwen. Instead of worrying that it was her friend, that there was blood everywhere, she ignored those things and treated each wound for what it was; it was the first time she had ever been able to deal with someone who was bleeding, and she thanked Ilúvatar for it. Some were deep and some were simple scratches. Arwen had been tearing at her skin in some places for quite a while it seemed, and so the skin appeared to have been healing and then had torn again and again. Enguina found herself wondering how long she had been lying here like this…and when and if she was going to break down and lose it completely again.

All the time she had been removing the dress and cleaning all of her wounds, wetting her hair, Arwen had neither moved nor spoken. It still seemed almost entirely possible that she were not awake. She had to soak Arwen's hair thoroughly, which she needed Legolas's help for, in order to be able to make some sense of it. Enguina had needed Legolas's help to dress her in the loose clothing as well; just a simple tunic and underclothes as most of the skin across her legs and chest needed time to heal. Another dress would simply have been ridiculous. Legolas also had helped her sit Arwen carefully in a chair before the mirrored vanity.

He stood in the doorway now, leaning against it as he watched his wife lovingly and gently brush the snarls out of Arwen's long dark hair. Arwen's ability to sit up told him that she was conscious, but why she was not responding at all was a complete mystery to him, and he could not tell if she was lucid or comprehending what was going on around her either. Something had happened to her…and he was too worried that he already knew what it was.

His wife's hands moved smoothly along the locks of Arwen's hair, combing steadily until they came to a knot. Then, they picked through it so carefully, separating each strand until the knot was no more, very aware of the condition of her scalp. The cycle began again. If the situation had not been so serious, he would have found so much beauty in it; Enguina's simple, yet, wonderful love for her shown in every aspect of the brushing. It could have been years from now with Enguina standing with their daughter and the scene would have been just as touching for him. He heard her voice murmur something soft and low, and then he heard more of her words.

"Arwen," Enguina whispered softly, just simple conversation with her very still friend, "Arwen, you have such beautiful hair."

Legolas did not know what about that phrase, or what about any of it made it happen, but his eyes were drawn to Arwen's face as her head fell forward as if in slow motion. Her eyes clenched tightly just before her bruised hands came up and covered her face; her shoulders hunched forward and her body began trembling all over. A heart wrenching crying filled the room. It was not a wail as it had been when Enguina had first heard it; it was a cry of loss, of heartbreaking grief. It was the first move Arwen had made on her own since Legolas had been in the House, and how he wished he had not seen it! The sound of her weeping broke his heart; her grief was too much for him to bear. Accepting it was impossible, understanding it incomprehensible…and enduring it for another moment unimaginable. He wanted to turn and flee from the room as his own breath caught in his throat. Her grief washed over him again; it poured out of her in waves, rocking everything around her like a shockwave.

Legolas could see Enguina rocked back by it. He watched as her hands dropped the brush and reached out to catch Arwen's shoulders as she began to slide forward from the chair, as though her body simply could not support her. There was no way Enguina could have held her there, and thankfully his feet unfroze. He darted in front of Arwen to help support her, taking her shoulders gently in his hands, lowering himself to one knee before her and holding her in the chair.

"Arwen…dearest, please," Enguina whispered, "what is this? Speak to us."

 _No, no_ … Legolas stared at her hands as she held her own face, watching the skin around her eyes tighten even more. _Please…do not let this be what I think…Ilúvatar, please…_

Enguina rested her hand against Arwen's head, stroking her hair and drawing her back against her. "We are _here_ , dearest. We are here." Arwen tried to pull forward, but their hands held her fast. "Please do not go away again, _please_ Arwen… _let us help you_."

Arwen's hands dropped from her face and she blinked; just for a second. That second was long enough for Legolas to catch a glimpse of her eyes before they closed again with another soft sob, but it was enough. His hands fell from her shoulders and he gripped his heart at the acute betrayal; his breath caught sharply as he rocked backwards. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this, the confirmation that everything he had been praying to be a lie was _real…and true._

 _She knows…she_ _ **knows**_ _that he has…that he is…_ Somehow, she knew…and it was _real_ then. It was not something that Nardur had said to hurt her or them; it was not just a wedding band in his pocket that should have been on _his_ hand. Her eyes were a window deep into the darkness that had become her heart…a place he could not even imagine in his own mind. The grief in her gaze was enough to tear him to pieces, enough grief to last him his entire life, enough to make him lose his own mind if he let it. He tried to grasp at the strands of himself that had fallen apart moments ago, to restore his breathing, and he recognized Enguina was saying his name, panicking.

" _Legolas_! Are you all right?" Because he had to pull it together right now, he nodded. He lifted his hand to his own face and wiped away tears there he had no idea he had shed.

"I think you are finished with her hair for now," he whispered, and Enguina nodded carefully, one hand still holding Arwen's face against her stomach, the other stroking her wet hair, trying to relax her. Arwen's arms were crossed, her bruised fingers so tight now around her own forearms that she was probably bruising them all around the cuts there; it was likely the only reason she was holding on was because she could not feel it. "Come, Arwen; it is time to lie down and rest," he said, and he scooped her into his arms. Enguina went with them, her hand on Arwen's head, just to be touching her, to let her know that she was there.

As he neared the bed, Arwen's fingers were so tightly twisted into his tunic-front that he was not sure how he was going to get them out. Her body was still trembling, but as he began to lower her, she gripped him so fiercely that she was literally clinging like an animal, terrified to be put down, her trembling increasing a hundred-fold.

"Arwen," he said, grunting, "you need to let me go."

" _No, no!_ " she pleaded, her voice breaking from hours of misuse and wailing, the first words she had spoken. " _I cannot!_ " It was difficult to hold her this way, and as her back touched the bed she cried out brokenly, " _Please, do not make me!_ " Her weeping intensified as she retreated into herself.

He straightened immediately, even as Enguina murmured, "Arwen, it is only your bed!" But Legolas knew better, and he was a _fool_ for even attempting it. He turned towards the sitting room.

"The divan," he said softly, wincing at how tightly she was holding him. He carried her carefully to the divan and laid her down; she finally released him when she felt her back against it. Enguina was just beside him as she began curling in on herself again, crying, vulnerable, weak.

He gestured for Enguina to sit beside her. "She desperately needs you," he whispered. "She may not act like it; she may not even acknowledge you exist, Guin, but she needs you." He reached down and grabbed Arwen's hands, preventing them from grabbing at her hair again, putting them in Enguina's hands as she sat on the divan in front of her. "You need to hold them," he told her and she put Arwen's hands in one of her own as she reached out to stroke her face, but her eyes were still on Legolas.

"Legolas…you know something…" she whispered, and though he met her eyes, there was nothing he could do at the moment, nothing he could say. He was devastated.

"It is going to rain," he said, his voice so soft. "Stay with her, please…I need to patch the window." He said nothing more, but leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

 _We will talk?_

He nodded. _Of course…_ She watched him leave the room, wondering what in the world he had seen in Arwen's eyes that had hurt him so much.


	44. Chapter 44

Author's Note: Thanks for your comment, WickedGreene13! That was how I was feeling writing it! Enjoy, everyone!

* * *

Arwen was not in a restful sleep, but under the circumstances it was the best she was going to get. Enguina continued to stroke her face, holding her hands. She could hear Legolas finishing up outside, the door thankfully now unlocked and the entryway open. Even in sleep, Arwen's body still trembled; this worried Enguina. She reached down to the end of the divan and scooped up the woolen blanket that Arwen loved so much. Unfurling it, she laid it gently over her, tucking her in so that she would warm up. She reached down again and laid her hand upon Arwen's forehead once more.

If she had known that Arwen really had been sleeping on the divan all this time, she might have tried to talk some sense into her weeks ago. As it was, she had never noticed that her bed was unslept in. It was clear, however, that Arwen had not wanted to so much as _touch_ the bed. Her greatest fear was that she had felt Aragorn die; it was all she could think about. She could not think of anything else that would cause her such terrible distress.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned her head to meet Legolas's eyes. "All finished, love?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he replied, equally soft. "The window is boarded up for now. She is resting?"

Enguina hesitated and then shook her head. "Sort of, I think." She did not know what else to say, so she said nothing. He took one of her hands and drew her up and towards the other room.

"Come with me."

She followed him, but as she reached the threshold, she looked back urgently at Arwen. She had not moved. "I fear to leave her."

"We will not be twenty feet away, and we can hear her," he said, continuing in a soft voice. "Come." They moved back into the bathroom where they both cleaned up the mess that was the room. He then sat her down in the chair by the mirrored table, where he began to clean her cuts from the windows.

"Legolas," she chided, trying to be light, "I am fine."

"You will be when I am through with you," he replied, continuing to work. "I am not sure how you got through that window in your condition. You must be mad." Yes, this was a safe subject; a good place to begin.

"I was so worried. I did not think I would get to her in time; it sounded as though someone was attacking her, and there was no guard and no one about. I was yelling her name and she was not answering and no one came…I had to get to her."

"There was no one inside when you came though, was there?" he asked softly.

Enguina shook her head as she watched Legolas work. "I was so afraid for her, I could think of nothing else." He came around before her and lifted her skirt above the knee. He had seen a cut or two on the back of her leg when she had been helping Arwen on the floor and was also concerned for her feet. As he continued to work, she kept talking. "I could not think of myself, Legolas…not when I heard…not when I heard her _voice_."

"No, of that I am sure. I am glad that this is all that happened to you. When I heard you call, I came, and when I was nearly at the step the guard had seen the glass and then _I_ saw the broken window…I did not know what to think."

She reached out and covered his hands with her own, stilling his and forcing him to look into her face. "Legolas, what is this about? Arwen is…" she hesitated and shook her head, her eyes wide, "in a state I have never seen her. She is in _agony_ ; in more pain than I care to imagine. I have seen Erumar in…please…please tell me that it is not what I am thinking. _Please_ …"

She was so worried; he knew what she was thinking, she was communicating without words. _Oh, Guin…it is so much worse!_ Legolas's eyes grew sad, and his heart ached inside of him. "I do not know if I can tell you…if I can speak the words…say it aloud."

"You _must_ ," she insisted, fear choking her; she was practically moaning in grief. "Legolas, I must know! Worse than _death_? What could be worse than _death?!_ How can I help her if I do not know what is the matter? Please, Legolas, I beg you."

He shook his head. "My love, do not beg. I cannot bear it." She found his eyes were red with unshed tears and her heart plummeted once again to her stomach. Her fears came flooding through her and she suddenly wondered if she wanted to know at all. In fact, she suddenly _knew_ she did not want to know, but she _had_ to…to help Arwen. She rubbed her stomach with one of her hands, feeling as though she was going to heave. Desperate to control herself, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

"Aragorn has…he has…he is…" Legolas stuttered, and his heart tightened like a fist gripped it. How could he even speak about such a thing that had been done? Two of his oldest and dearest friends…he _had known_ this man, better than he knew himself at times; he knew what Aragorn was going to do before he knew what _he_ would do in a situation. Dependable. Predictable. He was the same man as he had always been—how could time, circumstances have changed that? Who had he _become_ in the last three years?

Enguina was trying to be patient, but it was nearly impossible. "Legolas, just tell me," she said, squeezing his hands. "What has happened to Aragorn? What could be worse than his death? It is all I can think of that would make her in such a state!"

"It is not what has _happened_ to him," he said quietly. "It is what he has _done_." He reached into the pocket of his tunic and drew forth the ring, placing it into her hand. " _He is with Erumar_."

She looked down at the ring, turning it over and over in her fingers just as he had, eyeing the Elvish script that read _One life, One love_ , and feeling the engraving along the band. Though she had never touched or seen Aragorn's wedding band up close, she knew what it was, the only thing it could be. But his words confused her and the why of it all set her reeling. "Aragorn is with Erumar?" she quoted in confusion, lifting her eyes from the ring to his. "Of course he is with Erumar, Legolas; she traveled with him. Why do you have…why do you have Aragorn's ring?"

"No, Guin," he continued, and his voice hardened a bit to counter the strain, "Aragorn left this here and traveled with Erumar for one purpose only. He intends to lie with her…and for her to bear him a son."

There was a moment in time when Enguina's brain stopped functioning and then started again, trying to grasp the meaning behind Legolas's words. When she finally did, she responded completely different than he had. Anger and the deep hurt of disloyalty such as this coursed through her. Her eyes turned to slits.

"Legolas, how _could_ you? This man, he is your friend! He has taken care of us and helped us in _everything_! You must be mad if you think that I could ever believe that he would—"

"It is his _ring_ , Enguina."

"I do not care if it is his ring or a fake! What you told me of those men the other morning and of Nardur—why would you suddenly _believe_ them?" Her eyes were aflame, but he did not back down from her; he knew it in his heart—Arwen knew it. "Why would you believe such obvious lies? There is no chance that the man who holds Arwen the way you hold me would _ever_ , even under pain of death, betray her in such a way!" Her voice was loud, uncontrolled; she was furious. He simply looked at her, feeling sad, helpless. "It is impossible, Legolas! It is not possible for a good man to do such an unspeakable thing! He would _never—not to her!_ Not after everything they have been through!"

"She _knows_ , Guin," he replied, his eyes full of grief enough that it gave her pause in her anger. "I saw it on her face, in her eyes. She knows that he has betrayed her; she is _grieving_."

"Arwen…" she stumbled over the words, still shaking her head in disbelief. "You think she felt…something that made her…I cannot understand this." She swallowed, trying to think amidst the chaos in her mind. "Where did you get this?" Her fingers fumbled on the band within them.

"He _left_ it with one of the councilmen," he whispered in anguish. "I did not want to believe; I _did not_ believe…until this. Why would he leave it? Nardur said it was because he did not want a constant reminder of his infidelity." He said the last with extreme bitterness and a foul taste in his mouth.

"An accident?" The look Legolas gave her made her flinch. "I cannot believe he could ever do something like this. This is _Aragorn_ …after all they have been through with the council and the miscarriage and then with us being with child and—"

"Those are all reasons _why_ , Enguina. Perhaps…we do not know him anymore."

"You cannot believe that!" she whispered fiercely. "Legolas, you were not here! You were not here when he sat at her bedside in the Houses when she had _poisoned_ herself trying to get pregnant and he pledged that he would live childless if only he could be with her, that she was enough!" Tears filled her eyes as she tried to convince him, tried to explain. "It is impossible! He _could not_! _He_ _could not do this._ "

"I have known him since he was a Ranger, Guin," he said. "Do you think I do not want this to be anything but truth? A _filthy_ falsehood! An evil lie! There are _letters_ from Hildanir stating that the two of them were together. Not _a_ letter…three! Even Noldore and Dintîr had to believe it! _Hildanir_ , Guin! Aragorn must have come to realize that there was no way for an heir to be born…or he did not wish to wait."

"But…but _why?_ He encouraged her so many times! Even before he left! And Erumar!" she exclaimed, horrified. "She would never go along with such a scheme even if it _were_ true! She is the most honest and honorable person I know—she would never lie, never commit…Ilúvatar in heaven, she cannot even think about your _father_ without thinking she is betraying Haldir's memory! Never mind this! It is too impossible!" Tears filled her eyes. "I will _not_ believe it! _I cannot!_ "

"The council must have pressured him somehow," Legolas said, his eyes hardening. "And he gave into them. I _knew_ him; I believed in everything he ever said about how much he loved her. I watched him sing to her, every night before sleep for nearly _ten_ years. I always thought that there was no one, not _one_ good enough for her, to be her husband, who could love her the way she deserved…but I began to think that if there was someone, it was him."

"Legolas," she whispered, "these have to be lies. This is too painful! You know him still!"

He pulled his hands from hers, beginning to pace the room like a caged lion, his teeth clenched as he muttered. "He swore that he would never stop loving her. He said to me, years ago when Vändir brought the woman from Dol Amroth for him, that he would lay down his life before he would ever commit such a sin against her. He called her…he called her _his beloved_ …"

"Legolas _please!_ " she cried, covering her ears. _Ilúvatar, it cannot be so! Do not let it be so!_

"How _dare_ he? She…she gave _everything_ for him! Sacrificed _everything_ , gave him all of herself, so what? _So he could do this?!_ The Evenstar of our people is no longer good enough for him?" His hands were trembling with anger, his eyes burning with it. There were no words to describe how he truly felt: he had spent _years_ coming to terms with the love Aragorn felt for Arwen, had come to believe it to be the only way the two of them could live, that without one another they were nothing. There were no words to describe his heartache for Arwen, and his anger at this turn of character in Aragorn.

"He could not do this to her," Enguina whispered brokenly. "There…this has to be some sort of mistake." But even as she said the words, she felt her heart accept the truth of it. How could she deny that Erumar and Aragorn had always been close? Even from the moment she had come again; Erumar had always been grateful for what he had done for her marriage…and Aragorn had always seemed to her, even from the first, just a man…but he had been a man in love with her dearest friend. _Dare_ she think ill of him? "Erumar…" she began stiffly, but she did not know what to say.

"What would he have said to convince her? I am certain he would have filled her ears with tales of how her sacrifice would help Gondor," he snapped bitterly. "How bearing him a son would _save the realm_ and that he _needed her desperately!_ "

She stared at him, horrified. "Do you not hear yourself?" she gasped, pressing her hand to her lips. "You make it sound as though he has been planning this all along! That somewhere he has lost his character, that he is a seducer! We _know_ this man!"

"You said it yourself almost six years ago, Enguina," he stated, his voice finally sounding miserable and defeated as he looked away from her, "when you first met him."

"I—I barely _knew_ him!" she cried, sudden tears spilling down her face as she choked on the words. "What can you mean?"

"Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps he _has_ been doing this and planning for the future. You were afraid that he was not entirely truthful; perhaps he never was. Perhaps _this_ is, was, his true character."

"Can there be no other explanation?" she moaned, lowering her head into her hands. "I cannot see how he could do something like this…"

"I cannot see another explanation," he murmured, looking back at her. He _wanted_ to comfort her, but he did not know how; he did not know what to say that could make this any better, not when he felt as though their friendship was so used, so abused right now. "What else could put Arwen in such a state?"

"This is…too much, Legolas," she cried. "How _could_ he? With…with _Erumar_?"

"How could we be so blind?" he asked. He would have never suspected that Aragorn would _ever_ do such a thing, that _Erumar_ would; there was nothing either one of them could have done to prevent this. After ten years of marriage…

"How could he think she would accept this?" Enguina asked softly, and Legolas finally reached over to hold her close.

"I do not think he intended for her to know; Hildanir may have written it in the letters without him knowing. Perhaps he meant to tell her himself after he had returned home, Guin."

It made her queasy just to think of that possibility, and she felt even sicker at the possibility of seeing Aragorn's face as he tried to explain himself after he arrived home. "That is… _despicable_ …" she whispered, and her mind thought back through every conversation she had with Erumar before she had left. She looked into his face. "Do you think Erumar knew before she left?"

"I do not know," he replied truthfully. "It would have been a difficult secret to keep; he must have seduced her somehow."

She simply could not picture it: Aragorn, seducing Erumar and setting aside all of his vows to his wife. She had _seen_ them together, and she could not picture it. " _Despicable_ …" she whispered again, trying to wrap her mind around this evil scenario. She still could not believe that Erumar and Aragorn would have been making plans for such a union, not when he had loved her so. It would be like Legolas betraying _her…_ she simply could not imagine it. Legolas raised his head, looked into her eyes, and lifted a hand to her wet cheek.

"Forgive me for snapping at you," he murmured. "I was so upset, and then angry about him…"

She covered his hand with her own and he raised his other hand to gently wipe her eyes. "Legolas…what are we to do? How will we ever speak to Arwen about this?"

"Perhaps she will speak to us," he replied, but he shook his head. "We will be here for her. We will comfort her…that is all we can do, Guin. All we can do is comfort her."

As Enguina looked into his face, she hoped that he was right, that she could help bring Arwen some comfort. But as Legolas looked into hers, he was thinking of the inevitable end to this whole situation…and it both terrified and broke his heart.

* * *

It was pain that drove Aragorn to their first halt since leaving the night before. He had driven himself, Hildanir, and Mennev over thirty miles but he could go no further; he had done far too much already. The pain was a constant reminder of his serious injuries, and his empty heart a constant force of drive; unable to touch Arwen, he had ridden much farther than they should have. Mennev had been a last moment addition to his partnership with Hildanir, but the man had added himself most insistently and Aragorn had no time to spare to deny him.

When they halted, Mennev nearly fell when he dismounted, catching Dusday's saddle as Hildanir chuckled at him. Though the two of them were good riders, even _they_ had a difficult time being in the saddle this many hours. Hildanir stretched his legs and then came to Aragorn's side to help him down from the saddle. There was no easy way; Aragorn did not waste his time thinking or speaking, he simply dismounted. It was more an attempt at first, leaning most of the way onto Brego's neck to find a way to get his leg over the bay's rump. When his legs hit the ground, pain was his world and he would have gone down if not for Hildanir and Brego. The stallion's head immediately whipped around and his teeth snatched Aragorn's sleeve as the man's hand caught his headstall.

"Hold on, my Lord," Hildanir said, holding the man on his feet. "Take your time; you do not have to get to the ground all at once."

He could hardly breathe, but when he finally did catch his breath, he lifted his head, his face a mask of pain. " _Aragorn_ …" he stated. "Or Elessar…it is about time you call me by name, both of you."

Hildanir nodded. "Elessar," he repeated. "Let me handle Brego; you need to lie down."

He would not argue with that. There was a perfect log nearby, and Hildanir helped him to sit down with his back against it for now. He sat, half of the time spent watching the two of them take care of their mounts, and the other half trying to remember what it was like to breathe without pain. His right arm was strapped tightly enough that the jostling of riding did not hurt there as much as his hip. This was going to be one of the most difficult journeys he had ever made, but there was nothing about it that was not necessary. He had to get to her, to be at her side, to explain in person what had happened.

Hildanir made his way over with some of their supplies, leaving the horses free to graze and drink. He took a seat beside him, Mennev only a few feet away already eating a piece of jerky. Hildanir nodded to Aragorn, who turned to look at him with half a smile, glancing between the two men.

"Too much already," he said, and Hildanir nodded as Aragorn lowered the back of his head to the log, his eyes closed.

"Of course," he agreed. "As though you could do any less."

"We knew what we were signin' on for," added Mennev, "make no mistake. It's a hard ride though, and just to be sure, you are mad…completely mad. And we're mad for followin' you."

"What about you?" Hildanir asked. "What do you need?"

He opened one eye and looked at the two men. "Rest," he replied honestly. "More than anything else."

"You're pale," Mennev grunted. "The rate you're ridin', you'll be lucky if you last a week."

"Take some rest yourself, Mennev," Aragorn said, a wry smile on his face. "Sleep for a few days and you might wake in a better mood."

"Not likely," Hildanir stated honestly, and then caught the water skin the Captain had tossed at him. "Here," he added to Aragorn, "take some water."

He drank a little, but his hand was shaking too much. He needed to rest as badly as he told Hildanir he needed to. He was more exhausted than he had ever felt, and in more pain, too, but all the while the desperation, the worry, gnawed at him ferociously. Being absolutely terrified about Arwen when he could not reach her and could find no way to communicate was slowly eating him alive. He had become so used to her constant presence that to be without her was like missing half of his heart.

"My Lord—" Mennev began but Aragorn interrupted him.

" _Aragorn_ ," he corrected, looking at the man. "Let the titles lay where they will for now. We are three men traveling at speed; we have no need for titles."

Hildanir chuckled. "I cannot believe we rode so far so quickly. We are certainly in haste."

"I don't believe I caught the full purpose of it," Mennev said, confused. "Has there been word from home? I didn't see any messengers, and I thought that I would've."

"No," Aragorn said, his eyes closing once more to leave him in his personal state of worry. "No, there has been no word."

"Well then what're we—"

"Mennev, something has happened to the Queen," Hildanir replied, his tone darkening, "back home. The King knows she is in danger. My… _uncle_ ," he spat on the ground after saying the word, "had a hand in this whole awful ordeal, and may continue to wreak havoc in Minas Tirith unless the King returns and puts an end to him."

"By ordeal, you mean what happened with the Lady Erumar?" asked Mennev. When Hildanir nodded, Mennev shook his head. "Did anyone ever find Ethring?"

"Yes, Fânrim did. Ethring poisoned her and the King, gave them both something that made them desire one another. It was the Council's plot—mostly my uncle, as it appears." He spat on the ground again. "Selfish, fiendish bastard."

"It appears he is not so selfish," Aragorn interrupted softly. "He thinks only of Gondor."

"And what is Gondor if not her King, her Queen?" stated Hildanir. "When does he think of the _people_ behind the throne, not simply the throne itself? I despise him. Every thought of my uncle makes me want to be the one to walk him to the life-sentence in prison that he surely deserves."

"I had no idea he was your uncle," Aragorn said softly.

"Nor I," Mennev interjected.

"I feel that is a detail I should never have overlooked."

"There are more important things, surely," Hildanir said dismissively. "Honestly, did you not have enough to be going on with? And why should you make the connection? After all, we are nothing alike—"

"Praise Eru!" laughed Mennev, though Hildanir did not laugh with him.

"At least you can be sure that the entire Council was not plotting against you—it was only that scoundrel."

"And all this madness for a _baby_ ," Mennev said, shaking his head and tearing off another strip of jerky. "I understand it's a fairly important one at that but…breaking your vows for one can't be a good thing."

"It is wrong, and everyone should understand that, what the Council desires be hanged," Hildanir muttered angrily. His thoughts were on the Queen; oh, if his uncle had harmed her, if one hair was out of place…even the King would be hard-pressed to be sure the man got a trial.

Aragorn gave a little smile. "I have been feeling that way for some time." Then he reopened his eyes and looked at the two of them. "Please, do not let me sleep for long. We must be back upon the road again before the sun gets too far overhead."

Hildanir nodded as Aragorn closed his eyes once again. It took minutes for him to fall asleep, and Mennev immediately looked up at Hildanir. "He's not well, Hildanir."

"No, but we must do as he says," the other guard admitted. "We can do nothing else."

"He's never going to make it to Minas Tirith; not in his condition. We've got to let him sleep awhile longer, set out at night or something. I don't know about you, but I need rest, too."

Hildanir nodded. "We _all_ do. I wonder, if we do not wake him, how long he will sleep…and how terrible his wrath would be."

"What's he going to do to us?" Mennev scoffed. "He could strip us of our rank, I suppose, but even he's got to understand how terrible of a condition he's in."

"I do not think that is his concern," Hildanir admitted. "You have no idea how worried he is about the Evenstar. If she truly _is_ in danger—"

"How does 'e know?" asked Mennev, shaking his head. "How could 'e know?" The other guard hesitated as Mennev stared at him. "Well?"

"I am…that part is not quite clear," he replied and Mennev stared at him as though he had three heads. "Listen Mennev, the next time when the King wakes from a terrible injury and tells you he has a plan that is going to make you travel for a few weeks, _you_ tell him that he is not to go and then attempt to restrain him. He would not listen to reason, Mennev…not even to the Captain of the Wood, and she is _reasonable_."

The Captain rolled his eyes. "So what? It isn't as though he hasn't ignored the words, the advice of others before, especially the Council. That's no surprise. You could've posted guards; made him stay in the tent."

Hildanir gave him a pointed look. "If that is your response, why did _you_ not speak at the camp? Why did you not step forward and tell him 'no' yourself? Why did you force your way along instead?"

"Why? Because he's the King!" Mennev exclaimed. "What right've I got—"

"That is it exactly," he agreed. "Let _Elessar_ decide what he can and cannot handle. If it is his will to ride like a madman for Minas Tirith…then I will ride with him, no matter what." Hildanir sighed and made to light a fire. "I think I need to make some tea. When he wakes, he will need relief from the pain and I think preparing this for him will help."

"What else can we do?"

Hildanir looked up. "What?"

"What else?" Mennev insisted. "If the idea's to get home as quickly as possible, what can we do to make it easier?"

"What we are doing, I would think." He shrugged. "We should not challenge him, question him. If he is to ride to Minas Tirith, we should encourage him, protect him, and take care of him when he needs us to. He will need us to." He added the last seriously, and Mennev nodded.

"Aye," he agreed. "I'll follow your lead.

* * *

The heat was excruciating…it was burning her alive. Her breath came out in gasps, her hands clutching her arms, tearing, breaking skin. Arwen tried to cry aloud, to let someone know the agony she was in, but her mouth would not open. Her heart was snapping pieces of itself and they were cutting her open from the inside-out. A squeal of pain, and then an extended cry of agony sounded in her head. With every beat of her heart, his name bled out of her— _Estel…Estel…Estel…Estel…_

A terrible longing overcame her, but it was swiftly followed by devastating loneliness. She was trapped in a dark and frightening place with no escape and this time she whimpered aloud, the pressure in her head and her chest burning like a fire. She could tell she was more awake now that she had been in…time was lost to her. She was lying down on _something_ …her hand lashed out and struck fabric—the divan. Time stopped.

 _She could feel his arms around her, holding her tight as her entire body shook in his arms. She was kneeling in the center of their bedroom floor—she had fallen there, sobbing—why? Enguina and Legolas had been gone for a month; Faramir and Éowyn had only spoken last evening about traveling soon to Ithilien. She had not been crying for them. Oh…the child…another nightmare. It had been some time since the last one, and she had been caught unprepared. She had woken from a sound sleep screaming…her hands clutching her empty womb, in pain. Stumbling from the bed, nearly physically sick with the loss. They had known it would be like this; there was nothing that could stop it._

 _"Shhh…" he had whispered, pressing his lips to her hair as she buried her face into his warm neck, her skin cold as she trembled with the force of her pain. "You are not alone. I am here…I will always be here, beloved."_

 _She felt his strong arms surround her, scooping her into himself and holding her…holding her so tight. A physical presence of comfort as she gasped with every breath, tears on her face, hands now clutching at his tunic. He took them in his hands, kissing them, drawing her to the divan so she did not go back to their bed. He did not ask questions; he did not ask her if she was all right; he did not even tell her it would be all right. He only held her, keeping her safe from her own alarm, her own grief. He knew what she was dreaming of…he always knew. She had been calling out to him in her sleep again; it made her guilty, but what could she do? Calling him was about safety…calling him was from the heart…_

She flashed suddenly back to the present, her mind lashing out, unable to stand one more minute lying on that divan where he had held her so strongly, her mind so flooded with the very scent and feel of him. Her hand caught the back of it and pushed, shoving herself forward and she cried out in pain from the memory even as her hip, shoulder, and then head hit the floor. Fighting the blanket Enguina had used to tuck her in, she thrashed desperately to be free, her hands trembling so badly that she could not get them to respond to her commands. Her breath caught in her throat and she squealed aloud this time, a sob taking over her. She wondered, in some far off, detached way, how many tears she had left—were they numbered? Would they ever stop?

Her entire being ached in anguish; some of it was physical, but the rest radiated from her heart. There was no coming back from this…no way she could survive it. She did not know if she could speak anymore, or if she even _wanted_ to utter another word. Suddenly, she heard voices break through her tears, her thrashing.

"Arwen!"

"She fell!" Hands took her shoulders, hands with long nails. Enguina. "Did you hurt yourself, dearest?"

Arwen tried, for the first time with coherent thought in several days, to communicate. She clawed at the blanket, her face coated with sweat. " _Help_ ," she rasped out, and the word was so trapped in her sore throat that it took her three tries to get it out.

"She is trapped; it is the blanket." That was Legolas. Then she felt the relief of air flow over her; she shivered uncontrollably, but hands gently hauled her into a sitting position, her back against the divan.

Before she could think about what she was doing, Arwen drew her knees immediately to her breast, clutching her hands around her chest to hold herself together. Enguina could tell instantly that this was what she was doing, attempting to keep the two sides of her broken heart together. Fresh bruises stood out on her arms; she had been digging them even as she slept. Enguina lifted a hand and rested it on her forehead.

"Let me see your head," Enguina said softly. "You hit your head when you fell." Her gentle fingers wiped the sweat off her brow, brushing back the dark hair that was stuck to her forehead. Then Enguina dabbed at the scratch the floor had placed there.

Arwen let out a soft breath; it was not quite a sob, but it was close. Enguina flinched, expecting her to break down again. She noticed the way Arwen held her eyes tightly closed, her hands still tightly pressed to her chest. "Thank you," she murmured, and Enguina almost rocked back, surprised to hear Arwen's voice even in its damaged state. She laid a hand on her shoulder, still studying her face.

"Legolas is making you some tea," she replied. Arwen said nothing, but Enguina watched as she began to slightly wobble back and forth as though rocking herself. As far as she could tell, it was unconsciously done. On top of the rocking, her hands were now clutching her chest and her jaw was tight as well. "Here, let me see your hands."

Arwen shook her head, and when Enguina did not ask her again she stuttered out, " _If I move them…I will fall apart_." Her voice was as rough as sand paper but so quiet and broken that Enguina could barely understand her. She noticed the new damage Arwen had done to her arms and she frowned; she needed to find a way to prevent her from tearing her own skin.

"You have hurt yourself again," she stated, but softly as she reached out to unclasp Arwen's hands from her chest. "You have to stop that…just look at your arms."

Legolas had left the room to stoke a fire and boil the tea, but he now stood at the threshold again, simply watching them. He kept his eyes upon Arwen, ready for her to break down at any moment and lash out at whoever was nearest; he could not allow her to hurt Enguina. Even as her friend pulled, Arwen's hands did not come free of her chest, nor did she respond or open her eyes. She continued to sit, the slow rocking increasing only slightly, her hands trembling so hard it caused her upper body to shake as well. Legolas could see the cuts and tears in her legs quite clearly now; the tunic left nothing to the imagination. Arwen's position, her legs tucked up to her chest, was inappropriate for someone dressed as she was, but it was clear she neither noticed nor cared.

"Arwen, are you cold?" Enguina asked, desperate to give her some sort of help. Arwen's head shook from side to side, and Enguina's face grew more desperate, unable to hide the tears that filled her eyes. " _Arwen_ ," she whispered, "please tell me what to do. How…how can I help you?"

Arwen slowly opened her eyes as though it were painful, her lower jaw trembling, as she found Enguina's eyes for the first time since she had realized she was there.

" _Nothing…_ " she answered. Her voice was so broken and sore that she wanted to tear at her own throat, but she needed her hands to hold her heart together just now; she could not move them. " _There is nothing you can do…_ " She _hurt_ ; there were no words.

Legolas lifted himself from the threshold and came to sit lightly on the divan just behind her. He lowered a hand to her shoulder very gently. "Arwen, we are here for you," he added, though his voice was quiet. "Whatever you need—"

"I _need_ …" she whispered, but it was more of a groan as her eyes blinked closed and tears once again spilled, uncontrolled, over her swollen, red skin. " _I want to be alone._ " She could not pretend; she could hardly speak, could feel the pain building inside her once again. The screaming would begin soon; she could hardly focus on anything but the grief in her head. It fought to be released before she burst.

"You do not have to speak with us," Enguina urged, fighting to keep control of her own emotions. "Please, Arwen, I beg you: do not send us away. Do not have us leave you, not when you are like this."

"You are only going to hurt yourself," Legolas murmured, but she shook her head, half-dazed.

"I am _already_ hurting," she replied, her hands tightening like claws, trying to hold herself together. "Please… _please, I beg you…_ " Her head fell forward until her forehead struck her knees and she began rocking in earnest, her whole body beginning to tremble again. There was no stopping it; if they did not leave now, they would see her lose it completely.

The break down was inevitable, so Legolas leapt into the gap. "Who told you, Arwen?" he asked, and Enguina gasped, her eyes immediately searching for his. He did not look at her, but heard her voice in his head. _Legolas, no!_

" _No…no!_ " Arwen murmured, her cries muted by her face buried into her knees.

"Was it Nardur? Did you see the letter?" he asked, ploughing forward.

 _Legolas! Please, do not push her!_

" _I cannot! I cannot!_ " Her fingers dug painfully into her breast, but she could not regain control, find her mind. She could hardly bear to think as the pain in her chest swelled and her head felt as though it was going to burst. Her head was pounding and she wanted to seize it, but once again, she could not let go of her chest, her heart.

Enguina wound her fingers into Arwen's hair, cupping her head, staring at her husband's earnest face. "Dearest, try to calm down," she whispered. " _Easy_ …"

He _had_ to know; he _had_ to! "Arwen," Legolas whispered intensely, "is it true?"

The wail that rose from her was no less disturbing than before and when it ended her shoulders were racked with sobs that were words. Finally, Legolas figured out what she was saying as Enguina wrapped her small form with her arms. " _I felt him! I felt him!_ " She was shaking like a leaf in Enguina's arms, the woman's head now resting on hers, holding her as close as she could.

Legolas left his hand on her shoulder. He had known it was true, but this confirmation of it from Arwen's lips broke his heart. The man he had trusted with what was most precious to his people had indeed betrayed her. There was no going back.


	45. Chapter 45

Several hours later, Enguina was seated at the kitchen table, a mug of tea in front of her that had long gone cold. Staring at it and thinking had been her only occupation for the last…hour? She had sent Legolas to bring back some food for dinner from the guards' kitchens; it had given him something to do, and she was _not_ about to leave Arwen alone, and _none_ of them were in the mood to cook something. It was growing dark already for the early sunset in October, and the rain made it even more dismal; it dampened the mood. There was brief thunder heard outside and she hoped Legolas was not caught in a storm. Aside from this, she had thoughts for no one other than her dearest friend in the other room.

Arwen was in a place that Enguina could not fathom; yes, she had known emotional pain and so had Arwen with the loss of the child. This was so much more crippling than that. Physically, Arwen was hurting and emotionally, she was devastated. Enguina thought back to her time wrapped under the abuse and assault of Bragolaur, a time that Arwen and Legolas and even… _Aragorn_ …had worked to see her through. The memory of it had hunted her, as it did from time to time. _This_ pain…this pain that Arwen was experiencing was different. Enguina had never really loved Bragolaur, and what she had lost was more a part of herself than the loss of a dear one.

Arwen had loved this man for nearly eighty years; they had been engaged for thirty of those, married for ten. The man had loved her from first sight; Arwen had shed her immortality to remain with him. She had sacrificed the love of her father and her kinship with her people, solely to be with a mortal who had sworn upon his own heart that he would love only her forever. This commitment, one that she herself had made with Legolas, was unthinkable to break. He had told Arwen she was his life; he had sworn to love only her; that she was all he had ever wanted…

But she was not, was she? Aragorn wanted a child just as much as Arwen did, and though Aragorn had sworn to love her, just because he had lain with Erumar did not make him love _her_. He was using _her_ …Arwen was still his wife; Erumar only a pawn. Oh…that was the most despicable thing she had ever thought of anyone! It made her heart ache with how awful she had made him out to be, but then she denied that again— _she_ had not made him awful; he had done that himself. He had given up his pledge, his love for her in the hope of having a child that would carry his bloodline. Oh, had she not said it to Arwen when she had first come: that they led such short, passionate lives? Had she not asked her if she could think of nothing that he might be doing instead of coming home to her, that he had been unfaithful? Had _any_ of them, Arwen included, really known him? Enguina herself, upon seeing their love, would never have believed something so dreadful was possible in such a man who had seemed to have _such_ character!

Enguina cupped her hands around the mug, knowing its warmth was long gone. She was exhausted, but she was too worried for her friend. She lowered her hand to her belly and rubbed it gently; Arwen should have been lying in her bed, but the poor thing was again sleeping on the divan after weeping for so long. She kept thinking about Legolas asking her the question and her answer, that she had felt him. Enguina knew that meant through their bond, but she prayed that did not mean exactly what she thought—that he did not love her, that Arwen had felt him passionately involved with Erumar as he had been with her. The thought made her shudder; she thought of her moments with Legolas when they were love-making and had shared their minds and what that _felt_ like and…could not ever imagine what it would be like to share that with anyone but him. How… _awful_ to imagine.

Enguina heard the floor creak and she immediately lifted her head, watching as Arwen stepped slowly into the doorway, standing still with one arm wrapped around her chest and the other hand resting on the doorframe.

"Can…can I come in?" Her voice had faltered on the first word and she had to begin again, lifting the hand on the frame to hold her awfully sore throat. Her eyes pinched closed for a moment and then she looked at her friend seated at the table.

"Of course you can," Enguina replied. "Let me get you some tea." She stood and lifted the kettle from the still-lit fire to pour Arwen a mug and added honey for her throat. She watched Arwen move carefully to the table, her hand on the backs of the chairs and the table to keep herself steady on unsteady and painful legs. Clearly, her knees were shaking, and when she went to draw the chair back to sit, she had no strength to do it; her hand barely closed on the top of the chair.

"Here," Enguina said, replacing the kettle and stepping around the table, "let me help you."

"I am…all right," Arwen replied, but she allowed Enguina to help her. The other elf pulled out the chair and helped her take a seat. Enguina noticed that the arm Arwen kept holding to her chest remained right where it had begun.

"Not yet, but you will be," she said, squeezing her shoulders gently in her hands. She watched from above her as Arwen folded a hand around the mug to warm it, her shoulders trembling beneath her hands. "Are you cold?"

"No."

Enguina knew better. She left the room and returned with the Rohirric blanket that she had covered her friend with before on the divan and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. Arwen sighed softly.

"You do not hear very well." She winced as she spoke, Enguina noticed, every word like a dagger in her throat. She took a seat across from her.

"I hear just fine, thank you," she said, raising her eyebrows. "It is you who do not tell the truth very well." She nodded towards her. "You are _freezing_ …and being hardly clothed is not helping. The tea will help, and…you need to drink. You have not had enough to drink."

That she knew. Her throat was raw and sore, and her tongue felt like a pound of sand had been poured into her mouth. She raised the mug to her lips and took a careful sip. Enguina watched her seriously, but Arwen did not raise her eyes to hers. Instead, she found herself staring through the mug at the pattern of the wooden surface of the table. "What…what day is it?" She should attempt at conversation, should she not? Though she could hardly care how much time had passed—what did it matter?

Enguina stared at her. _Asking permission to come into her own kitchen…asking what day it is? Dear Ilúvatar, how long has she been out of it?_ "It is Thursday," she replied gently, and Arwen nodded slowly as if she had known it all along. "Arwen, how long have you…how long have you been here, like this?"

Arwen lifted guarded eyes. "Like what?"

She laid her hand on top of her wrist. "I have not seen you in nearly two days. In all that time, Legolas and I were terribly worried about you. Were you here?"

"Yes," she replied honestly, looking away as Enguina's heart clenched. Her dearest friend, lying on the floor in the sitting room for nearly two days, all alone after she had broken inside.

Tears flooded her eyes. "I am so sorry that I did not come earlier."

"There is nothing to forgive. Please," she said, withdrawing her shaking hand from Enguina's grip, "you should be thinking of caring for yourself, not…not me."

"In all the times you have been there for me," Enguina said, staring at her with stunned eyes, "when I try to reach out to you, you continually push me away. You try to send me away, you tell me you are fine, you refuse to let me help you…" She wiped her own eyes with the back of her hand. "All that time Bragolaur haunted me, you were right there beside me, supporting me, drawing me back out into my life no matter how hard I fought you. Now…you seek to prevent me at every turn."

Arwen looked at her, met her eyes, devoid of any emotion. "What do you want me to say?"

" _Let me in_ ," she urged her. "Let me comfort you. Let me—"

"There _is_ no comfort," she said, even as her voice faltered. "Enguina…I have _lost_ myself… _I have lost everything_. Where can I go from here? What can I speak to you?" The words were whispered through a throat brutalized from screaming. " _I can hardly speak_."

Enguina looked at her. "Is…is there no way…is there no way that this is not truth?" she whispered back, her voice full of her friend's pain. "Is there no way?"

Arwen simply stared at her a moment with no reaction and then Enguina saw the hand tighten to grip her breast, the arm across her chest pull more tightly as her breathing quickened. " _No_ …" she murmured in reply, "there is no way…"

Enguina waited so long for more that she did not think her friend was going to continue as her eyes filled with tears; then she suddenly took a gasping breath, and Enguina realized that it was that she had forgotten to breathe. Her eyes closed as she breathed in a few times, trying to catch her breath; then she shook her head only slightly.

"I am not good company, Enguina..." she muttered, lowering her eyes back to the table.

"You said," Enguina began, trying to draw her out, "that you…that you felt him. What…what was it that you—"

A groan escaped Arwen's lips and she gasped again, swallowing hard. She could hardly speak around the pain in her chest, the aching hole where her heart should have been. Her eyes fell on Aragorn's chair and the hand on the mug traveled to her eyes as she bowed her head. Memories of him in that chair tore at her mind, her heart. "I…cannot…" She said the words slowly, taking a deep breath between each one, reminding herself to breathe.

"We…we have to talk about this," Enguina said gently. "You have to talk to someone."

"I… _cannot_ …" she said as her voice broke. " _You…cannot…understand…_ "

"Help me to," she whispered earnestly, tears in her own eyes. "Tell me, Arwen. Let me help."

"I have to remember to breathe," she gasped out as more tears spilled over on her face. She was forcing the words out now, straining to speak, to form sentences. "I am _lost_ in the dark…I have been torn to pieces…I cannot _find_ them…I cannot _hold my heart together…_ " Enguina could not tear her eyes from Arwen's; they held so much suffering that they were wild with her pain. "I lift my eyes to look around and—" her voice broke as she choked on his name, "—is everywhere. I cannot even bear to think about where…or even what we…"

Her breathing was so ragged and scattered. She finally pulled her eyes away and pinched them tightly closed, her broken nails digging into her breast through her tunic; she only felt the tightness and pain tearing at her heart, not what she was causing to herself.

" _Breathe_ , Arwen," Enguina whispered, and Arwen gasped, trying to do as she said, but finding it nearly impossible.

" _This is a pit of endless, mindless pain,_ " she gasped out. "I have lost my _soul_! I feel nothing but _agony_!" The tears were streaming now, her trembling growing worse. " _Exhausted, yet unable to sleep. Haunted, yet I cannot run!_ "

Enguina stood and came to her, gripping her shoulders in her hands. "What can I do?" Arwen's eyes closed for several moments as her body wracked in silent sobs. Then, she turned her tortured eyes up to Enguina.

" _Please…I beg you…_ " she whispered, so shattered that Enguina got an instant chill, " _Ilúvatar save me from this place, this House._ _I cannot bear it any longer!_ " Enguina stared into her tormented eyes, red and swollen, the rest of her so pale and cold. The deep scratches at the base of her throat that traveled across her chest shone so brightly that Enguina fought to prevent herself from touching her own in sympathy.

 _Ilúvatar, help me to help her!_ "You will stay at the guest house with Legolas and me," she said immediately. "You…why do you not sit right here, and I will pack a few things for you?" She tried to think logically, but Arwen could hardly respond. Instead, she slowly lowered her forehead to an arm, her face nearly pressing against the table as she cried deep sobs, full of longing, full of her broken heart. She laid her hand on the back of Arwen's head and stroked her hair once, her pain like a knife through Enguina's chest. Letting her go, she immediately went to pack her a few things.

Walking through Arwen's bedroom, going through her drawers and their things made her feel as though she was disturbing the last bit of normalcy within that House, where there had once been so much love, now there was nothing of the kind. Removing even some of Arwen's things made it feel dead, broken. It was difficult to even think of what she might need, but then Enguina remembered that she could always come back in the morning after Arwen was settled and get whatever else. She stared around the room blankly.

From the front steps, Legolas entered, bearing some food for dinner. As soon as he came inside, he heard and saw Arwen, and he set the sacks down and went to her, slipping his hands around her shoulders.

"Shhh," he whispered to her, "it is all right."

" _No…_ " she gasped back, her body heaving with the lack of air, her face still buried in her arm. " _And it will never be again…_ "

To know it was one thing; to hear her speak it that way…was entirely another. Enguina entered the room carrying her things and her cloak, and she set them on the table beside his sack, a hand on her belly. He lifted his head, his eyes sad as he met hers.

"We are going to the guesthouse," Enguina told him, but it was clear that Arwen's weeping was getting to her, as her voice was thick. "She needs to be…away from here." She looked down at Arwen, at the way she was shaking, and decided she was completely incapable of rising and walking her way to the guesthouse. "Can you—?" She could not finish, she was so choked up. Legolas knew immediately what she wanted.

He reached over and slipped the cloak around Arwen's shoulders and back, rubbing her shoulders gently. "Arwen, we are going to leave. Can you stand?" He had only just entered, so he knew that there were not many about at this hour, and that would be good for traveling to the guesthouse. Arwen's tears continued, but she looked up into Legolas's eyes and found understanding there, just as she had in Enguina's. They knew the truth, even if they could not possibly feel what she was feeling.

He extended his hand to her as Enguina gathered their things. Arwen attempted to pull herself to her feet using the table, but her knees simply would not hold her, the lack of food and drink and sleep attacked her at once and they buckled. Enguina reached out in alarm, but she should have known that Legolas had it under control. He wrapped his arm around Arwen's back and under her legs, scooping her up into his arms and tucking her face into his neck. Her fingers entangled themselves almost immediately into his tunic; what struck him again was that she did not fight; she did not insist on doing this herself or that she was fine or that she could walk. No, this was the state of things now, there was no denying.

"Let me carry you," he said gently, as Enguina poked her head out to see who was around. Arwen's head rolled into Legolas's chest and tears continued to flow; she could not stop them, never even tried.

" _Please…get me out of here_ ," she moaned, her eyes so tightly closed Legolas wondered if she would bruise her skin. He nodded, brushing his chin against her forehead. He slipped out the door as Enguina held it for him, seeing no one around. As he moved through, Enguina took one last, long glance through the open door, staring around at the House where there had been so much love and tenderness. She had so many good memories of this place; she could not imagine all of the memories Arwen had made here in the last ten years with the person she could no longer think of without incredible pain. As she let the door close, Enguina had to wonder if there would be memories made there ever again.

* * *

A week passed out upon the road. After Hildanir woke Aragorn far too late on the first day out, he had to remind the men why they were speeding along as quickly as possible. Contrite, though knowing Aragorn had needed to rest more than he would ever admit, Hildanir and Mennev had quickly apologized. They knew that Aragorn was not resting enough, and as the days wore on, he became pale, like a wraith, still forcing himself onward.

Sunset was falling on the eighth day and a great wind was coming up, chilling the men to their bones, snow flurries in the air. Hildanir tugged his cloak in more tightly and looked to his King; the man was nearly doubled-over in the bay's saddle, barely able to sit up straight. This was pure exhaustion; Aragorn had pushed himself way too far. A hundred miles in a week? In his condition? Hildanir shook his head and caught Mennev nodding in agreement. This needed to stop. He suddenly heard muttering carried to him on the wind, and he urged his mount a bit closer in order to hear the words being spoken.

" _Arwen…Arwen…_ "

Aragorn was not praying for her, as Hildanir thought. This was a constant repetition of her name; he was nearly delirious with both pain and the drive to be with her. All this time, unable to reach her…it was wearing on him in ways he would never have believed. He wished with his whole heart that he were already home, Arwen in his arms, his cheek pressed to her hair…

"Elessar, we need to halt," Hildanir said, riding far too close to him so that he could reach out and grip his arm. "We need to rest, and you are—" Aragorn shook his head, but it made his whole body rock from side-to-side. Hildanir looked at him seriously. "You are not well." Even as he studied the man, he could tell he was feverish. He hoped with all his might the wound had not become tainted with infection. If it had…they were no healers. He opened his mouth again, but Mennev rode up on the man's right side.

"It's time, my Lord," Mennev added, but Aragorn did not have enough range of motion to turn his head to the right to look at him. Instead, he simply kept walking, but Hildanir had definitely had enough as the snow coming down was beginning to blind him now. It was not collecting upon the ground, but it was a blizzard of white before him. No, he would let them go no further.

He urged Ithil faster than Brego was walking and he reached over to grab the bay's rein. "Whoa, Brego!" he said, and the bay stopped immediately. Aragorn, even in his exhaustion, tried to nudge him, Brego stood fast, confused by the man asking him to stop and his friend asking him to go. Mennev hopped down from the saddle, nearly falling himself, but reached up to grab Brego's reins, allowing Hildanir to dismount and go to the King. " _Enough_ , Elessar," he said earnestly. "Surely, you are going to kill yourself."

"I have…I have to… _Arwen_ …" Her name was almost a moan coming out of his mouth, and that was the moment Hildanir realized he _was_ nearly delirious. Now, it made even more sense to bring him down and make him rest.

"Resting will get us there faster in the long run," he stated. "Get down from there."

Aragorn stared at him, his eyes glazed over with pain, almost as if he wanted to believe him, but he could not wrap his mind around what the man was saying. Mennev shoved his boot out of the stirrup, and Aragorn did not even look down. He started to lean down towards him but then he fell; his body simply could not support him any longer. Hildanir was there to grab him and lower him to the ground, but it was painful for both of them. Once he got Aragorn to the ground, he helped him to the nearest tree trunk where he proceeded to cover the shivering man with the extra cloak tied on to his saddle. Aragorn did not move from the tree, and Mennev immediately began unsaddling the horses while Hildanir worked to get a fire going as he kept a close eye on the King.

" _Arwen…_ " Aragorn muttered, dropping his head back against the tree. He could hardly _breathe_ , he was in so much pain. She was the only thing in his mind; everything else was a blur around him. _Please…Father…help me get to her…_

Hildanir approached him again, speaking urgently, but he barely noticed; he simply stared right through him until his eyes finally closed and his exhaustion took him.

* * *

 _The big grey walked, shoulder to shoulder with the large bay. She laughed and Aragorn reached over to take her hand in his. He, too, was laughing, enjoying this time they were spending together. It had been some time since their last ride in the early morning, and their boys were excited to be out in the brisk spring air. This first year of their marriage had been exciting but challenging as well, as both of them had learned their place among the City's ever-changing needs._

 _Yes, Aragorn was King…but he made so much time for her. This was only one example of that time. The people saw them together in the streets, but this time on the Pelennor, around the outside of the fields and the villages, they were able to spend solely with one another. She looked over at him, delighted, as he did the same, giving her that little smile that she had come to know so well._

 _"I mean every word," he told her and she laughed again, this time, blushing under his loving gaze. She had always known that Aragorn did nothing half-way; if he did anything it was with his whole heart…she had simply never applied that to herself. Looking upon him, so kingly even at this hour of morning, at this time where he did not mean to be moving her at all aside from mentioning how beautiful he thought her in the morning light, oh, how she loved him! How looking upon him, hearing him speak with such tenderness in his voice, such joy and love in his eyes…how it touched her heart._

 _He gave her that little smile, that one that had been filling her dreams the last several nights, and her heart fluttered inside her chest. His eyes remained fixed on hers while he reached over and brought her hand to his lips so that he could press them to it. Oh, he should_ _ **not**_ _be doing this to her…not out here…where there could be so many eyes…_

 _"I hear the Anduin calling our names," he told her softly, and her eyebrows rose in surprise as she blushed even more furiously. He obviously knew what she had been thinking of, how much she was desiring him. After nearly a year of marriage, she was still getting used to his openness about his desire for her, as she was with him. At times, she still felt terribly awkward, but it was clear that he had mastered himself more easily than she had, and was unashamed by it. She…simply could not be as frank, as honest, as open…as shameless. He knew it, as able as he was to hear some of her thoughts and feelings._

 _He dropped his reins, and before she knew what was happening, had reached over to tilt her chin toward him with his thumb, his other fingers around the back of her neck, stealing a quick, but passionate kiss. If anyone had been around to look and she had been focused, she might have been embarrassed; as it was she did not have time to do anything but gape at him as he released her chin. He grinned, and then urged Brego forward with a tap of his heels. The bay disappeared from beside her, Asfaloth clearly restless to chase him. She was too surprised to catch him, but he was only a few feet in front as he called back: "I will race you to the River!"_

 _She immediately let Asfaloth run. It did not matter to her one little bit if he were to beat them. She loved to see him like this, so full of peace, so blessed by the freedom in these days they seldom spent away from the weight of their new world. He had spent so much time as a grim, wandering Ranger that it was with wonder that she looked upon him when his face held that ready smile for her. She adored him; she loved to look at him. She simply spent the moments racing after him thinking about laying him down in that soft, green grass on the banks of the river and making love to him…_

Arwen's knees were pressed into her chest as she sat, curled into as tight a ball as possible, tucked into the corner of Enguina's divan. She was alone, the waking memory washing over her as though she had been sitting astride Asfaloth and looking over to meet his eyes. These bits and pieces of her life haunted her terribly, and there was nothing more that she wanted then to be free of them as her eyes flooded with tears. One of her arms was trapped between her knees and her chest; that was good. She needed something to hold her heart together as her fingers tightened in the long tunic she wore, her fingertips chewing their way into her skin; it could not be her nails as Enguina had filed and cut them…so she would not hurt herself anymore…as if she could. She could barely even feel it now.

She took a gasping breath; she did not know when she had forgotten to breathe or how long it had been since she had. Ever so slowly, she lowered her forehead to her knees and closed her eyes tight against the tears. She whispered beneath her breath, unknowingly speaking aloud. " _Oh, Ilúvatar…Ilúvatar!_ I need you desperately. Oh, where are you in this? Oh, how I _beg_ you to release me from this _agony_!" She gasped, her hands gripping her chest even more tightly as she choked on the hot tears pouring down her face. "Father, _help me!_ _Please!_ I do not wish to live…not this way…" The plea was end-seeking; she wanted it all to be over. "I cannot do this any longer; you cannot ask me to live without him. My heart is… _shattered_ …this is… _impossible_ …"

Already she had lost weight; the way Legolas kept looking at her, she must be severely unwell. She had not left the guesthouse since she arrived, but floated from room to room as a wraith, at times too weak in the knees to stand. Enguina kept trying to get her to sit with them for meals; this was fruitless as she would eat nothing, and could contribute nothing to conversation. Several hours ago she had been seated at the table for breakfast, and all she did was push the sausage around the plate with a fork until she had enough of the smell and had to leave it. The very scent of food turned her stomach.

Enguina leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, listening to her whispered words. They were so muttered that she could barely understand the prayer at all; she knew she was not intended to either, but she was there. She caught phrases now and again, but the words were barely coherent. It was true that Arwen was beginning to frighten her. Enguina had been praying ceaselessly for Ilúvatar to act and break her out of this; she could find a way to overcome—Enguina believed in her. But Ilúvatar needed to move so Arwen could follow. She walked slowly to her side and gently sat down beside her, reaching out and laying a hand on her friend's head. Arwen flinched, but did not pull away; her muttering had also stopped. At least that was an acknowledgment that she was there; last night she had not responded to anything Enguina had said.

"Are you hungry yet?" Enguina asked her softly, but Arwen simply shook her head. She could see, through the gaps in Arwen's defense, that her face was wet again. She was shivering, and Enguina reached over to grab a blanket and wrap it around her shoulders. "Here, let me warm you."

 _Nothing will chase away this cold._ But Arwen said nothing in response; she simply remained in the same position, shivering. She wanted to tell Enguina she was grateful, but that thankfulness paled in the face of the daunting task of overcoming her own pain in order to tell her…it would be a struggle to even make a sound come out of her throat now. Her head, her neck, felt so heavy that she simply did not have the strength to lift it.

"Are you hungry?" Enguina asked her again imploringly, clearly hoping that she would say yes. Arwen slowly turned her head, dragging it as though her neck was broken as she lay her temple against her knee, staring at Enguina sideways. She could not make the tears stop, but she mouthed the word 'no,' still looking at her.

Again, to Enguina, it was progress; yesterday, Arwen had barely been able to look at her. This, even though not by much, was better. She smiled at her friend, reaching out and stroking her forehead, brushing the hair aside that hung down into her face, her thumb tracing over a small scar near her hairline. "Maybe soon," she said. "There is more than enough for you when you—"

"No, thank you," Arwen replied in a small but very thick voice. The very thought of eating made her sick to her stomach.

Enguina's thumb stroked her forehead again, over the scrape as well. "Well, you might get hungry at some point, and when you do, there is something for you. How…how are you feeling? I hope you got some rest."

Arwen did not even feel like answering; she did not wish to be rude, but how could she answer that question? How was she _feeling_? As though her heart had been torn out, as though her world should have ended nearly a week ago at the first touch of the loss, as if…no, her world _had_ ended. She was simply going through the motions. How could she ever…how could she feel _anything_ ever again but agony?

She did not know what to say in return so she simply closed her eyes, more tears collecting slowly. Enguina smiled helplessly at her, knowing that she could not see her, and then added softly, "I know you can get through this, Arwen. I know you can make it." The words were spoken so earnestly. "It is hard to see any light in this darkness just now, but…"

Whatever Enguina said was completely lost on her. There was no 'making it.' How could she tell her friend there was no hope for recovery? There was only resigning oneself to the inevitable. There was no way to 'make it' without him; her life was forfeit. There was _nothing_ …absolutely nothing to live for without him. She had known this for years now…had known it since she met him, since the years began fading away and her people did as well. Middle-Earth held nothing for her, _was_ nothing to her without his hope, his peace, his… _love._ All of these things were gone. _Oh, Ilúvatar…where are you?! Where are you in this agony, in this loss? I cannot find you! I know you hear me, see me! Please, save me!_

Grief overcame her. She closed her eyes even more tightly, and then turned her face ever-so-slowly away. She did not lose herself completely, but she was so close, her hands drawing so tightly against her chest that she knew she was bruising herself—she did not care. There was no way to escape the pain she felt; nothing physical made any difference. What did physical pain matter? Pain was her _world_.

Enguina leaned over and wrapped an arm around Arwen's shoulders, curling herself against her and laying her head upon hers. Arwen felt her, but did not move and made no sound aside from her muffled cries. Enguina's eyes fell on Legolas, who stood in the doorway as she had when she had first entered, one shoulder leaning upon the frame as he watched them on the divan.

 _No change._ Legolas simply stared at her after her words.

 _Moina, did you think there would be?_

 _I pray for it…night and day…I want there to be. Ilúvatar has to answer this prayer! She cannot keep crying like this! It is unbearable._

Legolas's eyes shifted from hers to Arwen, watching her shoulders tremble with the force of her grief. Even from this distance, Legolas could feel it so acutely. He was reminded so compellingly of his father grieving over the loss of his mother that he nearly turned away; there was one difference, though: Aragorn was _not_ dead, and so this only served to make him angry once again. Oh...if the man came home when _he_ was here…he might kill him single-handedly, king or not. There was no excuse for this madness, her suffering, not for anything.

 _I agree. It is…unbearable._ He tried to rein in his temper, but Enguina felt everything and she stiffened as she held Arwen's shoulders.

 _Why are you—_

 _Not now, Guin._ He shook his head, frowning sullenly. _Comfort her._ He pushed himself upright and then sighed. _I will take care of the food for now. Then, I may step out to see the horses and go to the market. It has been a week since we have ventured out._

 _I know._ She closed her eyes as well and pressed her lips to Arwen's hair. _I love you, Legolas._

 _And I, you._


	46. Chapter 46

Author's Note: Thank you so much reviewers, for your opinions AND your kind words! I DO have plans to write some others (I actually wrote this story a few years ago, I just never thought to post anything to .), to calm your fears! LOL That's why I can post chapters! To my other reviewer, I would check out Chapter 39 and the end of Chapter 44. I feel like both Arwen's reaction to what happens with Aragorn in Chapter 39 and Legolas' pointed questioning about Nardur and the letters makes the connection that both Arwen and L/E are on the same wavelength about the supposed adultery for the reader, but perhaps I cannot read it objectively because I'm the writer! LOL Enjoy the story and feel free to review if you like!

* * *

Aragorn woke for the first time in…well, he could not remember how long, with a clear mind. Yes, he was in pain, but at least he could _think_ , he could _hear_. The fever he had was now gone. Opening his eyes, he found he was no longer against the tree, but he was lying flat upon the ground, covered by his own cloak. He lifted his good hand, but someone caught it, and that made him turn his head.

"Take it easy, Elessar…and _slow_ ," said Mennev, and Aragorn's eyes closed and reopened. The captain lifted his head and called out, "Hildanir! He's awake."

"Thank Eru in Heaven," came the immediate response, and Aragorn heard a rustle and then saw his Lieutenant's face block out the grey sky. "We were terribly worried!" There was no smile on his face as he looked down on his king, and Aragorn wondered what should be the first thing he should say. Hildanir took care of that. "Mennev, he needs water."

"Of course," the man replied. It took a few moments, but Aragorn finally drank some. He felt as though he had been lying on the ground for days, not hours. The two of them studied him and he suddenly fought the urge to laugh.

"You should see your faces," he teased them softly, his voice sounding fairly normal. That was a surprise to him.

The two men exchanged glances before Hildanir said, "My Lord…we thought you were not going to make it."

"You've been out for _days_ , my Lord."

Aragorn stared at them. " _Days?_ "

"Elessar," Hildanir said, shaking his head, "I was going to ride north and return with Tauriel two days ago if your fever and your breathing took any more of a turn for the worse. The two of us have been in a panic for nearly a week."

 _Another week lost…god, Arwen…_ Aragorn's eyes closed and he swallowed, breathing slowly to calm his now racing heart, his pulse pounding through his head. "How are the wounds?"

"Finally beginning to heal," replied Hildanir with relief. "Thank Ilúvatar."

"We can't go on like we've been going on," added Mennev, sternly. "There's no sense to it. I'm not going to let you kill yourself, not even to get home to 'er."

Aragorn stared at him and Hildanir lowered his head to avoid the gaze. "Mennev and I have been discussing this for days. Perhaps in another day or so, when you are well enough to move, we should turn North and—"

"I am afraid we will not be traveling north," Aragorn interjected. His pulse had not calmed. He began testing his limbs for functionality; how soon could he collect himself? Mennev could not understand; neither could Hildanir. How could he make them see the seriousness of this quest? "Minas Tirith is south, gentlemen, and that is our road. We have lost…" His breath caught unexpectedly and pain jarred him as he grimaced. "Lost so much time already."

"You can't know what's best for yourself in this situation!" cried Mennev in frustration. "You can't see or think clearly! You're going to damn near kill yourself—you would've if we hadn't stopped!"

"Help me rise," he said softly and Mennev shook his head adamantly.

" _No_ ," he stated. " _I'm_ not going to help you kill yourself."

There was a pause where Aragorn simply sat there and looked at them before Mennev rose and turned away. Hildanir and Aragorn studied each other for nearly a full minute; neither one of them spoke.

 _Please…oh, please…Hildanir, can you not see? Father in Heaven, move his heart! Help him understand!_

Hildanir reached down and carefully helped him sit up; it was painful, but he managed it, with Mennev's voice complaining the whole time. Finally, Hildanir turned to him. "Mennev, _enough_. We agreed to come with him, help him. Minas Tirith, the Queen, is his goal. We did not agree to hinder him."

"But—"

"There is no argument on this," Hildanir said firmly.

"There must be! He's gonna kill 'imself and you're gonna help 'im?"

"Stop," Aragorn said weakly, "stop arguing. There is nothing to be done save to ride for Minas Tirith. Arwen is in danger; I know it; I can _feel_ it. _Please_ ," he added, looking imploringly to Mennev, "I need you to help me."

"My Lord, we've _been_."

"Yes," he said, "and I am grateful. Now I ask you to do something more—get me to Minas Tirith." He winced as he shifted and had to catch his breath before he could continue; he was unable to do more than touch the edge of his right boot to the ground. Arwen weighed so heavily on his heart that he looked pleadingly to Mennev. "Please help me save her. I beg you."

"You have no need to _beg_ ; you are _King_!" cried Hildanir, feeling awful. "Your word is law, Elessar!"

"I need your help," he admitted, looking at them. "Both of you, to make it home alive and not…in pieces. I am desperate for you to understand." Behind them, Brego whinnied loudly.

"How do you _know_ she is in trouble?" asked Mennev skeptically, staring at Aragorn.

"Mennev," interjected Hildanir, mortified at his captain, "it is not our place to—"

"Quiet, Hildanir. There've been no messengers, so how do you know?"

Aragorn lifted his good hand and touched his chest. "I know it in my heart," he replied softly. "The Queen and I share a connection nearly impossible to explain. You must understand the difference in our races, Mennev. Elves feel things much more deeply than men do; if she knows…if she knows what happened between myself and Erumar…if Nardur has been feeding her lies since I have been away…it will only be a matter of time—" His voice broke and he stopped and swallowed hard.

"What?" asked Mennev. "You can't explain everything when we get back to Minas Tirith after takin' a week or so for you to rest?"

Aragorn eyed him gravely. "That may not be enough time."

"What the King means, Mennev, is that she might die from a broken heart long before we ever arrive." Hildanir picked up his saddle from the low-hanging tree limb nearby and began saddling his horse.

Mennev turned back and looked directly at Aragorn. "That can happen?"

"Yes…and I am terrified it will," he whispered. "Nardur's plans are wheels within wheels…if he has been lying to her, telling her that the purpose of my travels was to bed Erumar…than it is…possible…" He shook his head. "I _must_ stop it."

"I'll help you," Mennev swore softly. "But we must rest more frequently. You're not well, and all this time in the saddle with your hip and arm the way they are is not going to help."

Aragorn wished he could lay back down and rest for another week, but he could not. He gave Mennev a slow smile. "I promise to do my best."

The captain shook his head. "I don't think your best is good enough here, my Lord."

"I will do what I must, Mennev…and sacrifice where I must," Aragorn added softly.

"Mennev!" called Hildanir. "Get the King some breakfast and let us ride out before this snow gets any worse. We need to get going if we want to make better time." The man turned from them and began preparing Brego for Aragorn's mounting. Aragorn prepared himself for another inevitable rough ride, but he _was_ being honest with Mennev: he would do whatever it took to return home to her and save her from this terrible fate.

* * *

The same week and the one that followed Aragorn lying on the ground in fever passed so _slowly_ for those trapped in Minas Tirith. Enguina sat on the window seat in the guest house that she had called home for the last few months and her eyes lay on Arwen sleeping restlessly across the room. She did not leave her often; in fact, Arwen had not left the guest house once since she had arrived, and either she or Legolas had remained with her at nearly all times. Enguina had been outside of the guest house several times in the last two weeks, but every one of those excursions had been alone as she had left Legolas with Arwen. It was, however, growing more and more difficult to do so. Each time she was asked about the Queen, she would respond with the fact that she was very unwell. Looks of concern would follow and then suggestions, then questions about visitation. How could she explain that this was something no Healer could cure? That time and Ilúvatar would be the only Healers that could do anything in this situation? She felt so helpless! The people then never ceased to remind her they would pray, and she would get a lump in her throat that was so huge that she could barely respond with thanksgiving that they would do so.

Sometimes, the pressure of simply being in the same room was too much for Enguina's heart. There was so much pain in Arwen's expression, in the way she drew breath…when she did breathe at all. She never let go of her chest, and Enguina could tell when she gasped for breath that she had forgotten to inhale, just as Arwen had told her days ago. Without a doubt, this was the most difficult thing Enguina ever had to witness. Arwen was simply wasting away; she was losing weight and appeared gaunt and weak, and she rarely, if ever, spoke. When she did, her voice was cracked and broken, constantly on the edge of tears. She was present in a room, but she did not and could not include herself in conversation. Enguina simply had to get out of the house at times to relieve herself of the amount of pressure she felt. It was not Arwen's fault; Enguina could not blame her, but she became exhausted simply by watching her deteriorate under her gaze.

On top of all these things were the increasing night terrors and dreams that Arwen was having. It reminded her too much of her own situation with Bragolaur; she remembered running to Aragorn and Arwen in the middle of the night when she could not run to Legolas, hiding out in their home and having them comfort her…and they always would and their prayers and comfort would ease her somehow. As she looked at Arwen's deteriorating form, no amount of comfort was helping or, it seemed, would ever help. She could hold Arwen, she could talk to her, she could tell her it would be all right, but none of those things mattered! No, the only thing that mattered was that Aragorn was gone…and that he had done the unthinkable. Arwen's night terrors centered on Erumar and Aragorn and then, further, the baby that she could not have; Enguina knew this much from her words and then cries. If it was possible, it seemed the dreams that she was having were even worse. These Aragorn-centered dreams were even more unbearable than the nightmares; they were memories of what she and Aragorn had shared.

Arwen's nighttime visions were not really dreams; they were her emotions and fear and loneliness all wrapped into one. Neither Enguina nor Legolas could get her to tell them what she was seeing or feeling, but they would be woken in the dead of night or be startled in the middle of the day by her wails of suffering. She would never speak of them, but they knew from how different her sobs were which thought or memory she was reacting to. Sometimes, these visions of the past would take her while she was simply sitting on their divan and she would be overcome. It was in the times of her terrible dreams when they could not communicate with Arwen…she simply reacted. Legolas refused to allow her anywhere near Arwen during these spasms of mindlessness because she would often lash out. It was these times when Arwen could hurt herself and Legolas tried to get to her before she did. Enguina needed to remind her to bathe, and even then she seemed so weak that she was not sure how Arwen made it through the process without collapsing. Keeping an eye on her had become their only priority—they could hardly think of anything else.

She shook her head as she watched her friend's shoulders tremble, even in sleep. Enguina moved to her side and then reached down to gently run her fingers through Arwen's sweaty hair. Using her thumb, she wiped her forehead. She should not be awake right now, but she simply could not sleep. She had woken when she heard whimpering and slipped from their bed to see if Arwen was all right. She was so _desperately_ worried…and it was not only Arwen. Her other hand found her belly as the child moved slowly within her. The end of her eighth month would be drawing to a close in less than a week, and then she could have the baby at any time. _Any time!_ It was too soon.

Arwen seemed to calm just a little under her hand, and Enguina whispered a heartfelt thank you to Ilúvatar. The last thing she wanted was for Arwen to wake in another fit.

"I love you, dearest," she whispered. "I know you are hurting because of him…but I love you. I want nothing more than for you to be all right."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she stopped touching Arwen's hair so she could go back to the window-seat where she had been sitting. She was _so_ heavy with child, even though she had spent almost no time thinking of the baby in the last three weeks—all of their thoughts had been with Arwen. How something so small could have torn apart their marriage, Enguina could never understand, but she supposed that it was not only the child; it was also the expectations of everyone around them that had helped. It made her so _angry_ …and terribly sad.

Even with her eyes set upon Arwen, it was only a few moments later when she felt Legolas sit beside her on the soft cushions and cover the hand on her belly with his.

"Hello, little one," he whispered, and he leaned over and pressed his lips to her stomach. "How are you tonight? It is late, and your dear mother should be sleeping." He lifted his eyes to hers and watched them suddenly fill with tears. "Oh Guin, do not…" he murmured, and he raised a hand to wipe them away. "Do we not see enough of these all day and night?" He was just as heart-broken as her, perhaps even more so as he had known Arwen and Aragorn much longer than she had.

"Oh Ilúvatar," she cried, "you are so wonderful…and then I look over at Arwen, and how can I not _weep_ , Legolas? For her? For her love for Aragorn? I only…my heart just breaks for her." She shook her head. "We have been through nearly three weeks of this! How much more can she take? She barely eats or drinks a thing; though she rests, barely does she sleep! She is exhausted; she is in pieces. How much longer can this go on?"

Legolas turned to look at Arwen. "She has been living for the love of Aragorn, Guin…" he replied bitterly. "How does one survive without what sustains them?"

"She has to find out!" she groaned. "She must find a way…we must find a way _for_ her." She began to wring her hands; she had not done that in years. "This is eating me alive, Legolas. I am not made to watch her suffer like this!" Legolas reached in between her hands and stilled them.

"Nor am I, _moina_."

She looked at him seriously. "What are we to do?"

He lifted his head slowly and looked into her face. "Enguina…" he began slowly, "we must begin to accept the truth."

"What truth?" she asked, startled out of her fidgeting by the seriousness in his voice.

"Arwen…" he stated, and his heart sank even as he spoke the words aloud, "she is not…she may never recover."

She stared at him, horror in her expression; she looked away towards Arwen's shivering form and then back into his sad eyes and she yanked her hands from his and clapped them down over her ears. "No!" she said, her voice agony. "I will not hear you! I will not listen! Do not even _speak_ that way! What is the _matter_ with you?" She stood and turned her back on him, beginning to tremble even at the thought of such an awful end. "She _cannot_ … _nothing_ can happen to her! _Nothing!_ I will not lose her, not ever."

His arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her tightly against his chest; he laid his head against hers as both of them stared at her. " _Look_ at her, Enguina," he whispered, but she fiercely shook her head and closed her eyes against his request. "Enguina… _look_."

She unwillingly obeyed him, lips trembling as her heart began to ache when she really looked instead of simply watching her. Arwen was becoming frail; her clothes hung from her body due to the weight she had lost and the wounds she had given herself were not healing as well as they should have. Mortal or not, they should have been healing. Her skin was pale and she had scratches and scars in several places that it seemed she had attacked herself with a knife. Her whole form trembled, the hand clutching at her chest even in sleep, her eyes roving beneath the lids…it was the first time she had known an elf to sleep with their eyes closed and she knew it was from sheer exhaustion. Curled into a tiny ball on the divan, Arwen seemed small and destroyed. In fact, if Enguina had to admit it to herself, her friend was only a shell of the person she once had been.

Enguina turned then, burying her face in Legolas's neck, hiding her eyes so that she did not have to see her. "Oh _god_ , Legolas," she whispered brokenly, and his arms held her more tightly. "What can we do?" She felt Legolas kiss her forehead, his hands gently rubbing her back.

"There is nothing we can do," he said, and his voice was sadder than hers. "Arwen cannot come back from this, Enguina…she has lost the last thing that connected her to a desire to live. She will never be the same again. She is…she will…" He could not bear to say the words. He could not bear to say that she was going to succumb to her grief—that her grief was too great for her heart to carry.

Enguina rapidly shook her head. "No, Legolas! Do not speak such evil things!" It was Legolas's silence that spoke louder than any words could ever say; even with his arms around her, he could hardly take his eyes from Arwen, whose fingers and lips were twitching in her sleep. He wondered what she was seeing. "Legolas…"

"What is it, my Guin?" he whispered.

"Every moment she is here, another memory haunts her," Enguina said, her voice full of thought and sadness. "Is there nothing we can do for that? Can we not help her? To _not_ think of him?"

He lifted his head and tilted her back from him so that he could see her face even as she tried to hide from him. " _Moina_ , would you stop thinking of me, had I done something so horrible—"

"Oh, Ilúvatar! Do not say such things!"

"I mean it," he stated. "Would there be a way to make you stop thinking of me?"

Enguina looked over at him. "Yes…I think…yes, there would be a way. If I were away from everything that reminded me of you, I would not think of you so much. Perhaps _that_ is what Arwen needs. Perhaps some time away…"

"Some time away?" Legolas repeated, confused.

"Yes," Enguina stated again, growing more attached to the idea as she began to explain it to Legolas. "Yes, it will be perfect."

"What will be?" he asked, frustrated. "What are you thinking of?"

"Do you not see?" she said, appearing more excited by the moment. "Legolas, if we take her away from here, she will not see him as much, be part of this situation as she has been. There will not be so many reminders of him. The only reason she is here is because of him, so if we take her from Minas Tirith, she will not have to be confronted every few seconds with memories of him." Legolas did not appear convinced, but she immediately began talking again so he could not refute her. "How many memories do you think Arwen has of Aragorn in Ithilien? Hardly any!"

"Guin—"

" _And_ she has never been to our home, so it will be difficult to see Aragorn _there_ —"

" _Enguina_ ," he stressed, and she finally looked up. "What is it that you are saying? You want to take Arwen to Ithilien?"

She nodded, relief in her eyes. "Yes, I think that would be best."

He hesitated, reining in his momentary blind panic. "Guin," he said slowly, "you are remembering how far along you are? Less than a week and you shall be nine months along. You made the decision to stay here and bear this child in Minas Tirith nearly a month ago, and that decision was based on Arwen as well. You should not travel so far in such a condition."

"Legolas, we can _do_ this," she said firmly. "We could ride out right now, under cover of darkness, and get her away from here."

There was a furrow of concern on Legolas's brow. "Right now?"

"She could simply go away for a few weeks, just until she feels better. Until the child is born—yes! We can tell everyone that we decided to journey home and the Queen is going to accompany us; get her away from the strain of Minas Tirith and help her friends for a little while with their firstborn." She nodded. "Aside from that, the people know she is not well. We are just going to take her away for a little while."

Legolas took her shoulders in his hands. "And what of Aragorn?"

Her eyes darkened. "What of him?"

"He is bound to return soon, according to the last report from Dintîr. He will know where she has gone. He will—"

"No," she interrupted with gritted teeth. "No, he must not come. How can we stop him from coming to see her? She would never handle that; she could not. Seeing him, allowing him to talk with her, would ruin everything." She looked terribly upset; she had truly thought the plan was foolproof. "How can I make this work, Legolas? How can we save her?"

 _Through sacrifice._ Legolas set his jaw, his mind churning rapidly. He knew what needed to be done, but he was terrified to do it. To let her…at this time… He looked into her eyes, and she saw pain there. "What if I could stay and deter him? You would then be free to ride home to Ithilien with Arwen."

She stared at him. "I cannot ask you to do that."

"If you truly believe that this can save her, I will…make the sacrifice."

"You do not believe it will?" she asked softly.

"Guin," he said, taking her shoulders in his hands, "I am afraid that I feel there is nothing in Middle-earth that could reverse what has taken place. You told me once of how terrible things became after Erumar lost Haldir, her pain, and how you—"

"Do not speak of _her_ ," she spat. Enguina's vision flashed red at the very thought of the good friend who had betrayed Arwen. "Do not _mention_ her name."

Legolas frowned but dropped the subject. "If you want to try…I will do what I must." Enguina lost her defensive posture and her shoulders fell. She then leaned forward and buried her face in his neck.

"I do not know if I can be without you now," she whispered. "I do not want you to leave me."

"Trust me when I say that the last thing I want is for you to travel to Ithilien without me," he said softly, pressing his lips to her temple. "This is our first child, and I missed most of your pregnancy as it was. I was completely serious when I said I did not want you having this baby in the woods somewhere, and most especially not in the woods somewhere without _me_."

"But…" She hesitated and he watched her lay a hand on her belly. "Legolas," she added seriously, "I cannot have this child without you at my side. What if Aragorn does not return for months? You cannot remain in Minas Tirith until he arrives!"

"A set time then," suggested Legolas. "I will stay no longer than two weeks. It will take you at least a week to travel to Ithilien at the pace you must set." He frowned at her. "There will be no hair-whipping-in-the-wind riding, love."

"Legolas, I did not want _Arwen_ riding at six months! Never mind myself at nine _and_ I was not born on the back of a horse as she was," she replied regretfully. "Beside all of that, Arwen would not let me do anything too foolish. She will be with me, you know."

 _If she is capable of that._ "I know. This way, you will only be in Ithilien a week and a few days before I arrive." For a moment, neither one of them spoke; they simply listened to Arwen's ragged breathing. Legolas sighed. "One of us shall have to wake her."

Enguina reached up and touched his face. "Are you certain that you are all right with this?"

"Not at all," he said, and she felt his teeth clench. "I detest the idea and my part in it at all; in fact, I loathe myself for suggesting it. But…" he said before she could speak, "if there is the slightest chance that it could help her, how can I not act? Yes? I would be the most selfish man in the world if I did not think of her. And you must be the one to ride with her, as I will not leave you here alone. Not after the stones." He scowled. "And I do not trust Nardur. Not even as far as I could throw him."

"She is going to be angry," whispered Enguina. "She will be angry because she will think I am recklessly endangering myself. I will tell her we have changed our minds…that we have decided to have the baby at home after all, and we need her help to prepare."

"She will not fall for that," Legolas replied, shaking his head. "But we have no choice; we must trust Ilúvatar and no one else. I must trust him for your safety, and hers; I must trust him for you to be without me and me without you. There are…" He paused and rubbed his face with a hand, chasing away his worry. "There are so many things wrong with this idea that I should not even mention them."

"He will take care of us on the road."

He nodded. "I believe he will." Then he sighed. "I want to protect her as much as you do, and I want to murder _him_."

The words were said with such fervor that Enguina looked down, swallowing hard. "He was your best friend, Legolas. Perhaps murder—"

"He _was_ my friend. Not anymore," he stated. He tipped her chin up. "Enguina, even though you have confidence in this plan, even though you truly believe that Arwen will recover, you do understand…you have to know before you do this…that she might…"

"Resent it?"

"No, that she may not recover at all."

She reached up and stroked his face from cheek to chin. "You did say that." She was humoring him; he could see it in her face. He caught her hands.

" _Moina quen_ , you do understand what it means for Arwen to not recover?" he asked softly. She stared into his eyes, uncomprehending; he knew that in her heart she knew, but she was not admitting it to herself. "You must be ready to let her go, Guin," he continued gently.

"To come back _here_?" she scoffed, pushing slightly back from him. "No, she can stay with us. She never has to come back here, to Minas Tirith…to _him_. _Never._ Not ever."

"Enguina," Legolas said seriously, even though his voice was still gentle, "Arwen is dying of grief. You have already seen her fading, failing. You may have to accept that. You may have to be ready to let her go."

"Let her…that is… _ridiculous_. Simply impossible." He saw in her eyes that she was suddenly growing hysterical, full of panic. "Arwen is not…she is not _dying_ , Legolas!"

Her voice stuttered at the last, and his hands caught her shoulders again. "I know it is hard to accept it now," he whispered. "I know it is difficult to even think of it, to think of the possibility. But you can see her, Enguina. You know how different, how _changed_ she is. She is on her own now in a world of men who do not seem to want her, and she has no will left. The grief has destroyed her… _Aragorn_ has destroyed her," he nearly spat. "If you were to search for her heart, you would hardly find it, and certainly not beating."

"She _cannot_ die!" Enguina suddenly cried, her breath caught in a sob. Her hands flew to her mouth as she turned away from him, from her. She had spoken the word now; it was out and she was terrified of that reality. Legolas saying it was one thing, but out of her own mouth it seemed that it would tempt fate, bring it about. Ready to flee from the room, she got to the threshold before Legolas caught her arms and turned her back into his chest. Unable to control herself, she began crying into him—it was all suddenly too real. She remembered Erumar cutting herself and the stink of burning flesh and she could _not_ watch that happen to Arwen. "Ilúvatar, no! _Please,_ no!"

"Shh," he soother her, watching Arwen shiver over her head, "take it easy, my Guin. Everything is going to be all right."

"You only say that because I am upset!" she sobbed. "You really believe she is going to die of a broken heart!"

He did not know _what_ to say. What he wanted and what he believed were at war with one another. He wanted to tell her that Arwen would be well and have himself believe it, but just looking at her made his heart ache and his breath catch with anger at Aragorn. He laid his cheek against the top of her head.

"Enguina," he whispered, "I do not wish to upset you, but I need you to realize that there is a very real possibility that if you take Arwen to Ithilien there may be no change. I am praying _you_ are right; I am praying there will be change…but I cannot promise you it. I needed to be sure you understood."

"But it will not happen!" she groaned into his chest. "I will not _allow_ it. I will not let her out of my sight; I will not let her go off and lay herself down to die. _I will not_ ," she finished adamantly. "Ilúvatar would never permit it either."

Legolas wished that were so. He wished that Arwen loved Aragorn less; he wished that she had fallen away from him, not he from her. Oh, how he wished that! But he knew their love too well; if he had not seen the evidence for himself, he never would have believed Aragorn capable of doing such a thing—he, who had loved her since he had first seen her! Were there things that could ruin even the strongest of loves? Holding Enguina in his arms, knowing the challenges that they had faced in order to be together, to overcome her past…he did not think there could be anything so small, so trivial that it could separate them. Why had this turned into something that had broken their marriage? And for Aragorn and Arwen, who had known one another so well, and his pretty words that he would love only her, that he would never leave her, that he would never choose another for any reason…he had betrayed her in ways that were unforgivable. His stomach turned; it was still too much.

"Can we…" she began softly. She had regained some self-control. "Can we just believe that she will be fine? Can you only give me that? Please, Legolas? Can you not have faith? _Tell_ me she is going to be well again."

 _She will not accept this until Arwen is gone. She will never accept it._ He decided it was useless to try any longer. Instead, he held her close. "With your hope, Arwen will be well again, my love," he whispered, and the reached down to tip her chin up so he could touch his lips to hers. "I believe it is possible."

A whimper and then heavy panting made Enguina startle in his arms. In his desire to reassure her, he had forgotten about the dream Arwen had been in and that he had intended to wake her. Looking over to the divan where she lay, he noticed her trembling form was now nearly convulsing as what was left of the nails on her right hand tore scabs from the familiar gouges in her left arm, her left hand over her chest clutching the tunic she wore. Her head turned, pressed face-first suddenly into the pillow, her hands shaking with incredible force. And then the screaming began that made the hair on the back of their necks stand up. Enguina lunged for her, but Legolas immediately pulled her back.

" _No_ ," he told her firmly. "Absolutely not."

He gave her no time to protest; there was no way at all that he was going to allow her to get near Arwen when she was like this. He had told her that days ago, but it was very difficult to see her friend like this. She could barely stand watching him begin to wrestle with her, and by the time he had her in a hold where she could not hurt herself or him, Arwen was weeping so loudly that Enguina had to cover her ears. She had thought Arwen was sobbing, but now she sounded more like a wounded animal with high, keening cries. Enguina could not take the sound as her stomach reeled, and she stepped back into their bedroom. She had to ask herself, as she almost completely closed the door, how was she supposed to watch this, to stop this, in the few weeks Legolas was not with her? But more importantly, how was she going to find a way to save her friend?

* * *

The stable was quiet as the three made their way inside. Each one of the horses was asleep as it was the dead of night; Legolas had not wanted to cause a disturbance or draw attention to themselves. It was only two days after Enguina had mentioned that Arwen traveling to Ithilien was necessary, and within one Legolas had noticed an even more rapid decline in her. They had needed to get her out of Minas Tirith, and though it would not be easy to take her out under cover of darkness, it was necessary. The less questions asked, the better for them, the better for her, and they would not be stopped. There were only two others who knew that she was going—Dintîr and Noldore—and Legolas had explained it away as a trip with Enguina. That was what they had agreed upon: they would say that she was traveling to Ithilien for the winter as Enguina's child was to be born and that she would return in the spring. The men had gone along with it, and no one would announce anything until the morning…when she was already gone.

Keeping one arm around Arwen's back and a hand on her trembling forearm, he could only pray that when _he_ arrived in Ithilien, she would still be alive. He was glad that there was hardly anyone around to see her. She had lost her so much weight she was a feather to carry, and he _was_ essentially carrying her down the aisle. She could barely walk upright; even Enguina had helped her dress. What had truly surprised him the most was that there had been no fight in her at all when Enguina had told her that she was taking her to Ithilien with her, and that they had decided to have the baby at home. He had told her exactly what was going to happen and she had sat there and nodded, no complaints, no discussion. He did not know if that meant she did not care, or if she was simply so unmoved by everything that it just did not matter. She was weak; he could feel it in every step she took.

Enguina walked directly beside her, a hand tightening on Arwen's other arm as Legolas released her. "Legolas Is going to begin readying the horses," he heard her say. "Why not sit here?" She directed her towards a few hay bales that were stacked nearby, but Arwen shook her head, reaching forward to rest a fumbling hand against the stall door and using it to support her weight.

"I can do this…" she whispered, her voice rough from crying and lack of use. It was the first time Enguina had heard her speak all day. "I want to…" Enguina slipped an arm around her waist even as she straightened and Legolas looked on. As they drew close, Arwen using the wall for support, Asfaloth's head came popping over the stall and he whinnied loudly. It was a greeting that made Arwen swallow hard and Enguina nervous. She knew she should not be; Arwen had proved to her time and again that she was an incredible rider, but he was such a big horse, and she was _so_ frail right now.

She held her fast for a moment just as Arwen reached the stall. "Are you sure—"

" _I need this_ ," Arwen choked out, and Enguina released her immediately, opening the door for her. Asfaloth snorted and pressed his nose to the center of her chest. She lifted her shaking hands and wrapped them around his ears, leaning her head forward until it touched his. Enguina did not realize that she was crying until her shoulders were shaking and she whispered to the horse through her tears, " _Oh, Asfaloth…he is gone…gone…_ " The big grey nickered deep in his throat, and she slipped forward to wrap her arms around his thick neck as his head came down over her shoulder. The horse may not have understood what she meant, but he knew her grief, her pain.

Enguina turned away, tears pricking her eyes. She wished she could stop crying; it would help her peace of mind and give Arwen some support and encouragement. Her eyes caught Legolas's but he turned away himself, beginning to brush Lómë for her; he could not watch any longer either. But Enguina found herself looking back again to see her friend. She could not hear what she said for she was so quiet, but she could read her lips.

"Asfaloth," she whispered, "I am _broken_. _I am weak…and sick…and broken._ " Tears poured down her face as she swallowed hard. It took her a few minutes to compose herself, but as Enguina watched, she finally gathered her strength and began grooming him. She rested her weight on him as she did it, but she was moving and stroking the brush slowly along the dark dapples on his neck. Enguina wondered why she had been worried to begin with; Asfaloth loved her and was careful with her…unlike the man who had destroyed her heart.

 _But it never_ was _that way…I know he loved her…did he not?_

The question depressed her more than she could say. The change in Arwen, even in the last two days, had taken a terrible turn for the worst. Not only was she not sleeping, she had almost completely stopped eating. She _was_ sick and weak, and as broken as she said. Enguina was terrified of losing her friend, so she had convinced Legolas that they were leaving tonight. He had barely argued with he; instead, he had packed her things as she sat with Arwen and prepared some things for her as well, let her get some sleep, and then woke them so they could leave.

She leaned against the stall door where Legolas was saddling Lómë for her and she reached over and stroked the black's nose, smiling at him before she slipped him an apple from the barrel nearby. "Hello, my sweet boy," she said.

"He is going to be very careful carrying you," Legolas said, tightening the cinch as Lómë snorted. "And he will be _walking_ the whole way as well."

Enguina smiled. "Do not fret, Legolas. We will be walking."

Legolas returned her smile. "I was not worried. How is Arwen getting along cleaning Asfaloth?"

"She is more alive right now than I have seen her recently," she admitted, "but I think even seeing Asfaloth has brought on too many memories." He paused to look at her as she gave a long, tired sigh. "I only wish I knew that this were the right thing to do. In fact, I think I am frightened half-to-death over it, but…this is all I can think of to do for her."

He laid his hand on her cheek. "Everything is going to be all right. Both of you will be safe, and fine…and then I will be there as well."

She looked at him honestly and he watched her catch her lower lip between her teeth. "I do not want to leave you," she whispered. "There is no choice, but I will think every day of your coming, and there will not be a moment during this parting that I will not be thinking of you beside me."

He leaned forward and laid both of his hands on her belly, looking down upon her womb. "Baby," he whispered, "be well and safe with your mother. She will protect you and care for you as she has done all of this time. May Ilúvatar be with you each and every moment as he has since you were being formed. I love you with all of my heart, just as I love your mother." He could feel the child moving a little within her, and he knew that if he missed the birth of his first child he would regret it for the rest of his days. He lifted his hands and slipped them around Enguina's neck, his thumbs resting along her chin. "I love you," he told her. "I adore you. Please, _please_ … _please for the love of Ilúvatar…be careful._ "

He kissed her soundly, but what had been straightforward and simple soon became intense and passionate as she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, winding her fingers into his hair. She held him there for minutes that felt like hours, her lips pressed to his in a completely breathless and intimate kiss that would have caused embarrassment for anyone who may have observed them; as no one was present, it affected no one but them.

When her hands released him, they simply stood breathless, inches from one another again, his forehead resting on hers as they both tried to breathe. "I love you," she whispered back to him. "I promise that we will be careful. I promise that I will take care of Arwen and—"

"You need to take care of yourself," he replied gently. "If Arwen goes mad during one of those dreams, you need to promise me that you are going to stay away from her."

She swallowed hard and lowered her eyes. "I…I will try, Legolas."

"You must, my Guin," he whispered, his eyes full of worry. "She will hurt you, and then she will be full of guilt. Prevent it, and you will help her."

She nodded slowly. "I never thought about that."

He sighed. "I know, _meleth_ ," he told her. "And I promise that I will be along behind you shortly." He swallowed hard. Oh, the last thing in the world he wanted to do was let her leave him behind! Her hands tightened behind his head.

"Do not be sad, my Prince," she murmured, and she kissed him again.

He rested his forehead on hers again. "Let me finish with Lómë so I can help Arwen saddle Asfaloth. Then, permit me to return to your arms?"

She nodded and let him finish as she scratched underneath Lómë's chin. When he had finished with the black and packing whatever Enguina would need for the trip, he left her with him and slipped over to Asfaloth's stall. As he made his way inside, he saw Arwen standing beside the grey, her body leaning against him, her trembling hands braiding his mane with single-minded focus. She was clearly doing it by rote as tears were tumbling down her cheeks, blinding her, and there was no way she could see what she was doing. He reached out and touched her shoulder, and she twitched, surprised.

"Arwen," he said, letting his hand slip over and grip the fingers, "let me saddle him for you." She nodded, and he got to work. By the time he was finished, she had completed the braid, releasing the horse and simply leaning against the wall, staring into nothingness. He watched her for a moment and she did not even notice, so lost in her own world. He stepped in front of her and looked down into her face, taking her hands in his own. He waited until she acknowledged him by meeting his eyes.

"Hannon le," she said tearfully, but she made no attempt to hide herself from him. There was no point to that when he had seen and been present for every horrible terror and memory she had for the past three weeks. She was spent.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" he whispered. "Can I ask you to watch over Enguina when you are upon the road? I…fear for her…and for you."

A flash of guilt appeared in her eyes and he knew it was because she had not paid attention to much of anything recently aside from her own pain. "Forgive me," she murmured, and her voice was tight. "I have not been a very good friend."

"You are in need," he told her firmly. "But please, Arwen…" He needed to know that no matter what, Enguina was going to make it safely to Ithilien with her, after that…he did not know what Arwen would do. He could not control the decision she would make. "Please, can you make sure she arrives safely in Ithilien?"

"I can take care of her," she said. He noticed she clearly left herself out of it. He knew her too well; she believed there was nothing she could do for herself. He reached out and drew her to his chest.

"I love you, dear friend," he told her gently, and his eyes filled with tears.

A lump formed in her throat, so hard and so large that she could not speak around it. Her eyes closed with the pain of being held by him; his tender, caring arms reminding her of another's. The memory rolled over her, the weight of it crushing her heart. She desperately held back the tears, refusing to cry again, and trying to focus on something other than her thoughts, like Asfaloth's hot breath on her left arm.

Legolas knew full-well that this might be the last time he would ever hold her again; it might be the last time he ever laid his eyes on her. He felt her struggle, breathing raggedly as she began to pull away, and he let her go with a heart that was so heavy, knowing that he had no choice and that there was absolutely nothing else he could do. Knowing that she was feeling Aragorn as he hugged her was an assault on his heart; he _hated_ the man. There was so much anger in his heart that he could not fight as Arwen stepped gingerly back from him and leaned against Asfaloth, eyes closed tightly, her jaw set as she tried to keep herself together. Enguina was right: this was the only option left. If Ithilien did not heal her heart, nothing would. He knew there was no reason to expect her to speak again, and he would not have asked her to. Leaning towards her, he bent and kissed her forehead.

"Be safe," he said, and then turned back to the grey's head so he could put on his bridle. Then he glanced back at her, watching as she rubbed her hands along Asfaloth's smooth coat. "Here," he said, extending the reins to her, "you will need these." She opened her eyes and with a trembling hand took them from him. She could not thank him; did not trust herself to speak. Legolas understood and said, "We will meet you in the aisle when you are ready."

He turned and when he stepped out of the stall he found Enguina standing there with Lómë. She was ready, but he was not. She gave him a tremulous smile and he reached for her, pressing her into his chest as she closed her eyes and felt her breath catch.

"I am not ready to let you go," she whispered as she felt his hand rub her back. It would only be two weeks…but it was two weeks that she would have to survive again without him at her side. He loosened his grip so that he could take her face in his hands and kiss her—tenderly, lovingly. His mind caressed hers, and immediately, she felt more peace. She knew it was his, but she was so grateful for it that it did not matter. She gave a long, low sigh and leaned into him, deepening the kiss. "I love you so much, Legolas."

"You must go," he said, "while it is still dark. Be safe and ride carefully. My heart will be with you both every moment we are apart. I pray fervently that there will be no trouble on your way." He found he lost his ability to speak, his heart in his throat. _I love you, my Guin._

After a final kiss, he helped Enguina mount and then turned to Arwen. He thought perhaps she would already be in the saddle, but then realized that she more than likely was too weak to mount on her own. He moved to her side and helped her as well, slipping her foot into the stirrup as he had done with Enguina. He looked up into her face, then Enguina's as he stood between them. Touching Enguina's hand, he murmured, "Be safe, both of you. May the grace of the Valar protect you and be with you. I will see you as soon as I may."

And with those words, they were off into the night. Legolas followed behind them to the door, but no further; he would not tease himself with the thought that he could have gone with them. No, instead, with the anger he felt simmering in his heart, he was going to write an awful, terrible letter to Aragorn. In two weeks, if the man had not returned, which was likely, he was going to leave it for him—just so that if they could not meet face to face, he could tell the man exactly what he thought of him. He would keep nothing silent.

He breathed out hard.

"Ilúvatar," he whispered, looking up into the night, "you are the Creator, the one who reigns on high, who knows our every thought and need. You make the mountains and the tiniest insect, yet you still care for us. I know this is true, and I know you love and strengthen and protect us…but then I see her." His voice caught and he swallowed hard as he dropped back against the stable doors. "What was your plan? What was your plan for her, for them? Why did you allow this to happen? She…she is going to die. Please do not make Enguina watch that! And I am so terribly grieved. I want to believe that you can save her, as Enguina does, but I cannot begin to hope for it! She is so lost, so destroyed by the one who adored her with his whole heart. Why, why, _why_?"

He knew there would not be an answer, so he moved on. "I am so worried about Enguina traveling with her. Encircle them and surround them with your protection to make this journey. Enguina cannot be alone during this time, being so far along with child, so please, I beg you…if Arwen is to die, please help them to make it to Ithilien first? She cannot be alone, Father, _please_." His hands tightened into fists. "She would not need to be traveling there at all if this had not happened.

"I _hate_ him," he spat, his eyes aflame as his mind finally landed on Aragorn. "I _hate_ what he has become—I feel I do not even know him! He _cannot_ be the same man I remember from fifty years ago, even _three_ years ago; it cannot be him! I hate what he has done to her, to her heart; he has shattered and broken her; I never would have believed him to be capable of such misuse, such deceit! I do not know whether to ask you to have him come so that I may confront him face to face, or that he not come and I must threaten his life another way." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes tight. "I cannot ever forgive this; I cannot forgive it, I cannot accept it, and I will not even try. I do not know why you spared them for so long, brought them together at all, when you could have spared her all of it by sending her to the Havens ten years ago.

"If this is a lesson in restraint, in tolerance, in forgiveness…" he shook his head, glaring at the heavens, "do not ask it of me; I will fail it. I will _kill_ him before I will ever forgive him. Not this, not for the murdering of the Evenstar of my people. No…it will not be borne; I will never forgive him, and he will regret that he ever loved her and broke her heart. Oh Father, you are going to be tired of hearing my voice in the next two weeks. I will be able to do nothing save think of them and pray. Ilúvatar, protect them, please…all of them, especially my unborn child."


	47. Chapter 47

Author's Note: Hey guest reviewer! I want you to know that when I was writing this story, I struggled with that SAME thing! How were they to believe that Aragorn would do such an unspeakable thing? There is nothing that convinces Legolas to believe as much as Arwen 'feeling' that Aragorn has done the unthinkable. That was the only way I could make it so that SHE would believe it and HE would believe it-otherwise, they never would because they know him too well. Because she 'felt' him, the proof is 'indisputable,' even though what she felt isn't real.

Also, the song used here was not written nor is it owned by me. It is the song, "Fallen Embers" by Enya.

Enjoy, readers! :O)

* * *

Over an hour before, Asfaloth had allowed Lómë to take point and he had been there ever since. The road towards Ithilien would be long at this pace, but it was an easy, fairly flat ride. There was a brisk wind and there were snow flurries in the air, which was still odd this time of year—winter had come too early. Both Enguina and Arwen had their cloaks on so they were protected from the early cold. Enguina had not noticed that Arwen was falling a bit behind, nor had Lómë, intent as he was towards home. Asfaloth had taken Arwen's mood and had slowed down, meandering and a bit unfocused, not paying attention to what was around him and where Lómë was going. He was getting there, but by a more circuitous route.

None of this mattered to Arwen; she was already colder than she had ever been in her life—the trembling simply would not stop. She at least had found herself able to converse more easily on the road with Enguina than she had at the guesthouse; it seemed that she may have been right about being away from Minas Tirith. They had been riding in silence for some time now and her mind was beginning to drift again. Her arm was still across her chest as it had been almost every moment for the last two weeks. She watched Enguina's body rocking with Lómë's movement and tried to distract herself and prevent memory from overtaking her. It did not work.

 _A hand rubbed up and down her arm, lightly rousing her from sleep. She stirred, blinking several times, trying to remember where she was, why she was asleep…that was what had happened: she had been attempting to stay awake for him. She smiled sleepily._

 _"You are late, beloved," she whispered, and she felt his familiar weight settle beside her on the bed._

 _"Happy anniversary, vanimelda," he whispered back, dragging his hand back and forth along her arm—slow, sensual. "Forgive me?"_

 _"Forgiven and forgotten…" She rolled onto her back and he let his hand drag over to her throat and chin, tilting her face toward him. She caught his scent and watched as the light glistening from the candles lit the desire in his beautiful grey eyes just as he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her gently, and as her long fingers came up to wrap behind his neck to deepen it, he backed off slightly._

 _"Are you tired?"_

 _She opened her mind to him immediately, allowing everything she had been feeling to enter his mind: her anticipation, her desire, the expectation of spending the night in his arms. She let it feed into him and then her fingers tightened on his neck and pulled his lips back to hers._

Do I _feel_ tired, beloved?

 _His response was instant. He must have been thinking about the evening for the last several hours because his mind was whirling with his desire for her. She could have bet that he had run as a deer until he reached the steps of the House. His hands were beneath her shoulders as he held her to him, and she pulled herself closer, half-sitting up into him and wrapping her arms around him._

 _His hands began roaming her shoulders and she had to laugh in between his kisses as he reached for the straps of the nightdress she was_ not _wearing. His fingers faltered when he made that realization, the effect in her head the same as an open-mouthed 'wow.' But then he quickly took advantage of it, dragging those same fingers down her spine, his other hand tickling between her ribs and her left hip. She pressed into him, rubbing her thumbs up beneath his chin, her fingers following his shoulder beneath the tunic he wore. She took a gasping breath before laughing, her eyes closing as she pressed herself against him at the feel of his hands._

 _"You are overdressed," she laughed, and he pressed his lips to her cheek, chin, and throat before he responded, murmuring into her skin and causing her to tremble._

 _"I am in no hurry." He leaned into her, pressing her back into the bed and taking down the top sheet, uncovering her skin. Before he bent to kiss her once again, he leaned back, resting his hands on either side of her ribs as she nearly trembled in anticipation, waiting for him to touch her. His eyes swept over her face, down her neck, her breasts, her ribs, to her hips before making their way back up to her eyes, admiring her with the same wonder as he had the first time. "Heaven and earth…" he whispered. "You are so incredibly beautiful."_

 _"I love you, verno," she told him. He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he lowered his mouth and pressed gentle kisses along her breastbone towards her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed as she wound the fingers on his neck into his hair and her breathing quickened. Her fingers slipped beneath his collar and she tried to begin unclasping the toggles on his tunic._

 _"Let me—"_

 _He shook his head and returned her hands to the back of his neck. "Let me make this about you tonight," he whispered and she shook her head._

 _"No, about_ us _," she stressed. He watched her face as her lower lip slid between her teeth when one of his hands trailed ever-so-slowly down her side. She let her breath out as she watched him smile. "It is our anniversary," she continued, this time her words almost a gasp as one of his hands began tracing around her breast. "It is a celebration for both of us." His hand continued touching her and his mouth traveled up her neck to her ear. She shivered against him. "If you are going to do that…" she groaned, "then I get to take my time with you next."_

 _He tilted his head, and pressed another kiss or five to her chest. "As you wish, beloved."_

 _"I_ do _wish," she returned, letting her hands roam down his back. "You are not the only one who had a plan for the way this evening was going to go. I have been at it all day."_

 _He lifted his head and brushed his lips to hers, rubbing noses with her, which made her giggle, and then he moved back towards her ear. "Forgive me for being so demanding…I spent so much of the day thinking and planning out loving you. I never thought—"_

 _"Beloved, it pleases me to please you," she whispered, hooking her fingers beneath the hem of his tunic and sliding her hands all the way up the skin of his bare back. He pressed his chest to hers, leaning close on his elbows, the fingers of his hands holding her sides, his thumbs brushing beneath sensitive skin on her breasts._

 _"That certainly pleases me," he chuckled into her ear before taking the edge of it in his mouth. Her lips gaped open in a silent gasp._

Oh heaven, Aragorn…do you have any idea what you are doing to me?

 _He laughed deep in his throat, but his lips and tongue continued on her ear so his response resounded in her head._ I have some idea, beloved.

 _"I was…thinking today," she suddenly struggled out, trying to put a coherent thought together. It was not only his hands and mouth, it was the question, the burning sentence in her mind that now had her chewing her lip, her hands trembling, and a lump forming in her throat._

 _"Mmm," he murmured in reply, his hands now moving up and onto her breasts._

 _"I was…I was thinking…about…about a baby."_

 _He lifted his head from her ear and she swallowed hard just before he looked in her eyes, his sparkling with his desire for her. "We have been married three years now," he said with a slow smile. "What were you thinking?" He brushed his nose repeatedly against hers as she groaned aloud and her body lifted into his at the attention of his hands._

 _"Oh…Ilúvatar…" she whispered, "that he blessed me with you."_

 _He chuckled at her disconnected thought and continued what he was doing, but his mouth brushed hers again. "What were you thinking?" he asked again, and she let her breath out, growing serious. She tilted her head so she could not look into his eyes and keep him there; suddenly, her hands began to tremble and it was not because of him. She was nervous; she was afraid of what he would say because she wanted to have children with him so badly._

 _"What…what do_ you _think?" she asked timidly. They had not spoken of it; not ever, not once. They both knew the inherent challenges, the unspoken worry that it might bring, but his eyes shimmered in the candlelight and he pressed his lips to hers before answering._

 _"I would love it if Ilúvatar would bless us with a child," he told her, his voice full of tenderness and devotion. "I would love to have a baby with you." Tears flooded her eyes as he smiled, his thumbs rubbing her breasts as he spoke. She imagined for the second time that day what a baby, what having a baby with him would be like._

 _"You are…you will be the most loving father…" Her back arched of her body's own accord and he pressed a kiss to the center of her chest as he slipped his left arm beneath her, holding her there, his right hand continuing what he had been doing._

 _"I…never thought I wanted to hear you say that…just that way…" he whispered, surprise in his voice at the revelation, even as he continued pressing kisses to her skin, causing him to mumble. "Oh, Arwen…let us pray together…let us pray for a child from the One…" Her fingers wound into his hair as he laid his cheek against her heart, his eyes closing as he lay against her and every part of him stilled. "Most High, we praise you for the three years you have so lovingly bestowed on us…"_

Why this particular memory and why this moment she could never have said, but it shredded away at her shattered heart. Her throat constricted until she could not breathe or swallow. Her right arm was so tight across her chest, the nails digging in to hold her together and she was folded over almost double in the saddle. She realized that her face was covered with tears, but she could not breathe. Then she heard someone call her name—Enguina—

"Arwen! _Arwen!_ "

She drew a ragged breath somehow, clutching her aching chest; she tried to lift her head, but she could not. Enguina was saying something else, but she could hardly understand what she was saying, could think of nothing but the pain of the memory searing her brain.

"Arwen, my god, are you all right? What happened?" Enguina reached over and grasped her arm, holding tight and trying to pull her upright. She could not.

"Make it stop!" Arwen suddenly cried out. " _Please,_ Enguina, _please make it stop…_ "

Arwen did not know why she had asked that. She had asked it of Ilúvatar so many times in the last few weeks and nothing had come of it; what Enguina could do, she did not know. Perhaps some corner of her mind was just crying aloud the words and they simply came out. But for whatever reason, those words simply broke Enguina's heart. She only thought about how she was going to do it, not what it was that she was doing.

Immediately, she side-passed Lómë so that he was directly beside Asfaloth. Leaning over, she tugged Arwen's foot out of the stirrup and turned halfway in her own saddle; then, she swung over behind Arwen, pulling her up and back against her, as close as she could get being so pregnant. She had just begun wrapping her hands in her hair, so Enguina tugged them out and pushed them down, wrapping her arms tight around her and holding them down. Arwen tried to yank free, the grief pressing her to writhe and scream; she controlled the scream. But Enguina held fast, worried as she was for the baby and Arwen hurting her, or shoving her from Asfaloth's back.

"No, Arwen," she said in her ear. " _No._ I am not letting go." She felt Arwen's heaving breaths against her arms and she continued to hold on tight. She simply held her as the sobs began and the shaking ensued. When Enguina knew that Arwen had stopped fighting her, she slipped one of Lómë's reins through a loop on Asfaloth's saddle and urged the grey to keep walking, the black in tow. She had never ridden Asfaloth, but she could only hope that he was all right carrying two for a little while; he seemed to be fine with it. They walked along in relative silence, Arwen's soft sobbing and the hoof beats all Enguina could hear.

" _Oh, why…Ilúvatar, why?_ " Enguina heard the softly sobbed words, her mind still half in the memory. " _Take it away…please! Please, I beg you!_ "

Enguina leaned into her and laid her head on her friend's shoulder. "Dearest, I cannot make it stop," she whispered tenderly. "Oh, how I wish I could. I wish I could make you not feel for him, not want him… _god_ , how I wish I could make it stop."

Some minutes later, Arwen drew a shuddering breath, and Enguina knew the fit had finally passed. She lifted her head and kissed the side of Arwen's. Her friend's hands came up and closed around her forearms.

"It is going to be all right," she whispered to Arwen, but she only nodded in reply. "I promise," she told her and Arwen sobbed out a laugh.

"You cannot possibly keep that," she groaned, the pain so acute she could hardly breathe. Enguina's grip began to loosen and she held on to her arms, trying to pull them even tighter. "Please, do not let go."

"All right," she replied softly and tightened her grip again. She pressed her cheek against the side of Arwen's head, holding her close. "I will stay."

"You…should not be over here." Enguina knew exactly what she meant.

"You would have done the same for me," she replied stubbornly, and then added, "nine months pregnant or not. What happened back there? I thought you were fine, but then all of a sudden…you were not."

Fine? What a relative term! She was so far from fine it was ridiculous. Instead, she just shook her head, her eyes closed as she swallowed hard. What could she say to explain anyway?

"Was that a memory?" Enguina asked gently. Arwen nodded slowly, her lips pinching tight together, as she tried to maintain self-control. "I was calling and calling for you," she continued, "but you did not answer and…your face was..." She did not know how to describe it; Arwen's face had contorted with grief and pain, the agony within her plain to see. Outwardly, until that moment, she had appeared fine, but clearly that was an assumption Enguina should not have made. Keeping her mind engaged was clearly going to be the only thing she could do to prevent these memories.

"Where do you go?" she asked Arwen. "When the memory comes, where do you go?"

"I…I…do not know," she whispered back.

"What did you see?"

Arwen shook her head and dropped it back against Enguina's shoulder, turning her face away. Enguina could already see her tears.

"Talk to me?" Enguina asked her softly, pleading with her. "Maybe talking about it—"

"It will be worse," Arwen replied gravely, her throat tightening. "The memories will be worse."

"Why not try? It might be better if you let them out, if you talk about what is happening in your head. Perhaps it will be better."

Her eyes closed tightly. "It was out third anniversary…" she groaned out, and suddenly her heart clenched and speaking was impossible. Pain wrenched through her and her nails dug into Enguina's arm as she rapidly began shaking her head, her breaths gasps. " _I cannot…I cannot…_ "

"All right," she soothed, even over Arwen continuing to mutter that she could not. She unwrapped one of her arms from around her and lifted it to stroke her friend's forehead. "Shh…it is going to be all right."

As tears once again flooded her eyes, Arwen knew that what Enguina said could not _possibly_ be true…no matter how much she wanted to believe it.

* * *

Arwen sat alone in the darkness on the shore of the little creek. It was only a few feet wide and no more than two feet at its deepest point, but it was enough to make some tea for them and water the horses. They had been traveling slowly for three days, Enguina was already exhausted from the journey; the two travelers were nearly in Ithilien, and it would take at least another three days before they arrived at Enguina's home. Lómë was drinking from the creek off to her left and Asfaloth was snoozing in the trees, resting one leg, his body half-tilted to one side. Enguina was completely drained, fast sleep, curled on her side on the comfiest patch of grass Arwen could find so she could really rest. This journey was taking a lot out of her, even though she was driving herself to keep Arwen company...to keep her sane.

Arwen could hear the sound of the snow flurries tapping lightly against the leaves around her; at one time, she would have taken pleasure from the sound, closed her eyes and lifted her face to the heavens to feel the flurries on it, but now she barely heard it or felt it on her own skin. She was unable to take pleasure in anything. She was so cold that the snow made little change in her; she was already trembling, of course, and her head ached under the constant strain. It should have brought her some relief that they were nearly in Ithilien, but it did not. She had begun to believe that moving away from Minas Tirith was a good idea, would _help_ , as Enguina reinforced almost hourly; Enguina was so _positive_ about the situation at times it made her sick to her stomach. She wished it was infectious, that she could simply take Enguina's good mood and make it her own…but she could not. When she was distracted by Enguina, she was able to loosen the tight grip she held on her chest, but when she did not fill the silence…it was as though every nerve ending was raw.

Like tonight. There was nothing to prevent memory after memory from coming upon her, no matter how she tried to deny herself. The last fifty years of her life she had devoted solely to… _loving him_. When the thought came to her, a sob caught in her throat and she had to wrap an arm around her knees, pulling them to her chest. Her head dropped to them, tears flowing again, her other hand caught between her legs and her heart, holding tight. Her heart cried out to him, even though the connection was dead; she could not open it, _would_ not open it.

 _Aragorn! Aragorn! Oh…my beloved, why? Why?_

He had left her, abandoned her, crushed her with his thoughtless, mindless, horrible deed. Knowing Enguina lay feet from her with a child she could never have, knowing she could never live without his love, she bit her hand to keep from crying aloud. For nearly a month now, she had tried to come to terms, to accept what had happened, to find peace in her heart with this but there was none. It was too easy to think of Nardur's words: that it made perfect sense; that she was barren and he needed an heir; that Erumar was the perfect partner—a logical substitute that the people would accept because the two of them were so similar; that her husband had made it so easy for her to go into seclusion and _look_ as though the child was hers; and that _she_ herself understood, and had _encouraged_ him to make the decision…

A sob burst out of her, and she began to weep, her shaking hand skirting her face to grip her scalp, wrapping into her hair over and over until it was so tight and there was so much pain in her head she gave herself a splitting headache. The fingers on her left hand dug into the familiar bruised places somewhere between her breast and her armpit and pulled, making them darker, deeper, the physical pain a welcome relief from the unending grief. Could she go there? Could she see him in her head making passionate love, love he had made with _her,_ with someone else? With _Erumar?_

But she _could_ see it. It was only too easy to experience the memories she had of Aragorn with Erumar in them from a bird's eye view. In her head she could see him in Erumar's arms: see him loving her the way he had loved _her_ , stroking his hands along her skin, her back, her breasts, her ears, and pressing kisses to her throat, her shoulders as he held her in his lap, her arms around him and their naked bodies entwining. His eyes shining with the words he had last spoken to her, of his love, his desire for her, her beauty, how much she pleased him, how he wanted to bring her pleasure. _God, she_ _ **knew**_ _him!_ She knew his every move, every place his hands would fall when he touched her like that, how his lips moved when he smiled, how his voice dropped into a hushed bass when he whispered something only she could hear, how he made her shiver with anticipation, how he held her tightly to himself when it was over just to hold her close. And worse…she could see _her,_ one of her dearest friends, sliding her hands around his chest and up over his shoulders, grinding her hips into his as their eyes closed breathlessly, in the heat of the moment, her hands coming up beneath his arms to press her chest to his…and then her fingers sliding into the familiar grooves that _she, herself, had made_ _in his back_!

Arwen's ears turned to fire and her stomach recoiled; she slid quickly forward to her hands and knees and retched violently into the creek bed until there was no water left from the day of traveling. The memories were too much as one hand wrapped around the heart, _his_ heart, that hung on the chain about her chest: staring into his eyes as she gave him her life over an altar of stone and lilies, their fingers entwined with wedding bands, their first married kiss, the first time he carried her into the King's House, the first time he undressed her, his grey eyes flooded with bliss, his words to her—

 _How quickly you forget my love for you. I have spoken so many times that I love you more than life, more than anything that could have any power over me…more than the council, my kingship, Gondor. I would give all of it away, for you, for your love. Listen to my heart; feel it! It beats only for you, ever for you and you alone! I need you to believe me when I say these words: the only thing I will ever need in this life is the constancy of your love!_

" _Ilúvatar!_ " she wailed into the night, startling Lómë whose head flew up from the grass he was eating as he broke to a trot and scampered a few more feet away. Arwen did not notice. "I cry to you! What _am_ I? I feel nothing! You…you have abandoned me! I have nothing left; I cannot hold myself together anymore! I cannot live without—" Her voice cut off as she choked on a sob, continuing to wail with grief, gasping for air, unable to speak his name aloud. "You have taken from me the last—the only—my desperate plea… _he has torn out my heart_!" Both hands were now clawing into the dirt of the bank as she was bent forward on her knees, her face pressed to the ground as well.

"I cannot see you! I do not know where you are! I am without a light; my hope is gone! I am lost… _lost_ and I cannot find my way out of this pit of _hell_ you have cast me into. There is no escape from this torture, this agony!" Her hands found the back of her neck, gripping, pulling her wet face harder into the muddy ground as she groaned aloud, " _Why_ did you rescue me? Why could I not have died with my son, before I had to live through this, _before I knew what pain really was?!_ " She was moaning like a mortally wounded animal, her hands now gripping her hair, pulling, pulling, as she begged for some sort of relief.

Sobbing, her tears making mud in the dirt, she continued, "Where is the vision you showed me? Where is it? Where is the boy running into his arms? Was it… _was he not mine?_ " Horror flooded her at the sudden realization; was it possible the vision she had seen was not hers and Aragorn's son…but Erumar's? Her stomach recoiled again, but there was nothing left to heave. Moaning so loud in pain she was nearly writhing on the ground, her hand now clutching her chest again, she wept. " _You promised!_ You promised you would be with me, that you would keep us together no matter what. You…you _showed_ me that child to keep me here in Middle-Earth, to keep me with _him_ …and now…now my heart is _dead_. You have destroyed my heart."

It was not Ilúvatar, it was Aragorn who had done that, but she could only correct herself in her head. Pain flooded her once more and she pounded the ground with her fist, splashing mud around as her fingers dug into her breast again.

" _Just…please…_ " she whimpered, agony her world, " _please, please, please…if you have any mercy at all…please, my Lord…oh, my Lord just end this. Kill me, my Lord, please I beg you, end my suffering. I…cannot bear it much longer._ "

She felt so possessed that she thought she might simply drag herself the foot to the river and throw herself face-down into the shallows and drown…drown in the agony of it all, ending the thoughts and the memories before they could go any further. But she could not…she had made a promise to Legolas that she would not leave Enguina in the wilderness alone.

It was in her plea to die, her thought of leaving Middle-Earth, that brought the song to her memory. Nearly eleven years ago she had stood on the bridge in Imladris before the waterfall and sang the song to his memory—just as she had imagined him there, standing before her as she wrapped his hand about the Evenstar, around her own heart. The song had been borne out of her father sending her away, and so she had sung in her despair. Now, the despair was a thousand-fold, and she could find no hope in her heart at all. So her voice, cracked and broken as it was half-chanted, half-sang the words. Despair and agony was her world; her heart was lost and could never be found again.

 _Once as my heart remembers_

 _All the stars were fallen embers_

 _Once when night seemed forever I was with you._

 _Once in the care of morning_

 _In the air was all belonging_

 _Once when that day was dawning I was with you._

 _How far we are from morning! How far we are!_

 _And the stars shining through the darkness, falling in the air!_

 _Once as the night was leaving_

 _Into us our dreams were weaving_

 _Once all dreams were worth keeping…I was with you._

 _Once when our hearts were singing I was with you._

Beneath the tree, tears fell on Enguina's face.

* * *

That same evening, back in Minas Tirith, Nardur was pacing through the gardens. His ire was high; he had decided to spy at the King's House for the past two nights and there did not seem to be anyone about. The same was true at the guest residence, and tonight it was getting to him. Where in the world could the Queen be? Where was the Prince and Princess? He had to begin to wonder if he had been so successful in his work that he had caused everyone to leap from the Embrasure! And, if he had, why had he heard nothing about it? Even Noldore and Dintîr appeared quiet, though they had taken the news of their adulterous King quite hard; some of the council applauded him, however.

He had been busy, these last few weeks, plotting Arwen's demise. He had not worked out all of the details, but he was prepared to use any means necessary to finish her off. Though she had initially seemed broken by his words of her husband's betrayal, her following wildcat behavior in the throne room had been the last straw. He had no idea if Ethring had succeeded, which was _also_ driving him mad. There was no reason why the man could not have contacted him already with _some_ sort of information. That simply was not right. But he had to act on what he knew, and if… _if_ for some reason the drug failed, if Ethring was _not_ successful, then he would _have_ to act anyway. He might as well get it over with while Elessar was away then when he was present and protecting her.

He came around the corner of the garden by the rosebushes and saw the Elf Prince standing with his hands resting on the white stone wall, staring off some miles towards Ithilien. He stopped and watched him a moment. The staring did not surprise Nardur, but the solitariness did. Where was the Princess if _he_ had just come from the guesthouse? Certainly she was not at home!

"Good evening, councilman," Legolas said solemnly without turning his head, which gave the councilman quite a surprise. "If you wish to speak to me, come closer. If not, leave me be." Nardur took a few steps closer, watching the elf closely. There was much melancholy about him tonight; he had a feeling it was because of their words several weeks ago. The Prince had taken the information quite hard; for a brief moment, Nardur wondered if he had told the Queen himself. That had not been part of his plan, but perhaps it had worked better than he had hoped.

"Good evening, Prince Legolas," he replied. "Is the Princess not with you tonight? When I saw you standing here, I had hoped to see her as well. She is not unwell, I hope?"

"She journeyed a few days ago, returning to Ithilien." He stared at Legolas, speechless, and the elf finally turned to him. "Enguina decided she wanted to have the child there," he said softly. "So she returned home."

"I am…shocked," Nardur replied. "She is nine months, is she not? I am surprised to say the least that you would allow her to ride to Ithilien alone. Winter is coming on fast, and she must be riding rather slowly."

"We are unaffected by the cold, unlike the race of men," Legolas replied, debating how much he should say to Nardur—he did not like the man. "And Enguina did not ride alone. The Queen went with her."

Nardur blinked. "Wh— _what?_ The Lady has left the Citadel, unannounced, unaccompanied?" He appeared horrified. "Prince Legolas, what were you _thinking_ , allowing her to—"

"I was thinking that the Lady in question needed a respite from this City for a season," stated Legolas bluntly. "She will not be missed long; the Ruling Council can handle things until…until the King's return." Legolas curbed his anger at the last words and Nardur gaped at him.

"I simply cannot imagine that she would leave her subjects without making known her intentions. She is well herself, yes?"

"As well as she may be given the circumstances as you well know them," he said gravely. "You are the one who imparted the news of the King's adultery."

"Hildanir's letter—"

"Yet it was _you_ who was the messenger," he interrupted. "Who the news came from matters little."

"May I ask then, Prince…why have you remained and not traveled to Ithilien yourself?"

"I will be following them presently," he replied, turning to look back out across the Pelennor. "I am waiting a little longer…a week from today. Then I, too, shall be gone from the City."

"Why have you waited, Prince?" He was too stunned by this move!

"Was there not a rumor that the King would be returning soon?" he asked. "I was hoping he would so I could…speak with him myself."

"Do you know when the Lady plans to return?"

Legolas hesitated; he believed with all his heart that Arwen would _never_ return. "Perhaps in spring," he replied softly. "Then again, perhaps a lengthier option would be better."

Nardur glanced down, thinking. "Well, perhaps the King and she will return with one another…along with the intended heir."

Legolas spun on him, but the man had already taken a step back, clearly expecting some sort of snarl from the elf. "The King will _never_ touch the Evenstar again," snapped Legolas. "Not if it is within my power to prevent. In fact, he will not so much as lay eyes on her if I can stop it. I had hoped the King would return before I left so I could tell him that _myself._ " His eyes aflame, his blood boiling, he took a step toward Nardur. "No child from a whore will sit on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom."

Nardur gaped at him, holding up his hands. "I thought the woman was the half-sister of your—"

"She is dead to us," he said, turning his back on Nardur. But as he walked away he stopped to be sure that his words were heard by Nardur. "And so is _he_."

"One last question, Prince," Nardur asked, and Legolas cocked his head, still listening even as he prepared to stalk away. "You really think the King will return within the week?" There was uncertainty in the councilman's voice, but it was Legolas who shrugged.

"If it is Ilúvatar's will for me to speak to the King, then yes, he will. If it is Ilúvatar's will the King receive a letter, then no. Good evening, Nardur."

"Good evening, Prince."

The elf walked away, and Nardur took his position on the wall, staring off towards Ithilien and far outwards…to the North. Could Legolas be right? _Could_ the King return? No, it was too soon! How could he be finished with the Easterlings and the Orcs? It was _impossible_ …and they had not _actually_ received any messengers that spoke of the battle except for what he had invented in his letters from Hildanir. Though…if he acted quickly, it might not matter.

Legolas was _here_ …and the Queen was out in the wilds of Ithilien _unprotected_. There would _never_ be a better time than now to act. It also certainly seemed that she was unwell; if she had left Minas Tirith after knowing the circumstances of Aragorn's betrayal, she might have already been crushed. Elves… _could_ die of heartbreak. It was possible that all he needed to do was speed it along.

However, Elessar could _not_ return before he was finished. If, for any reason, Ethring had failed, the Evenstar could not know the truth; and Elessar could not return and tell her what he had done. It would ruin everything. It seemed that inadvertently he had turned Legolas against the King and his 'whore,' as the elf had so aptly put it, so much that they despised them. In fact, Legolas looked downright vicious as he spoke about the King. If Nardur was to leave, he would have to be sure that the elf did not actually _kill_ the King when he _did_ return; he would have to be sure to put a watch on the elf while he remained in Minas Tirith. As long as Nardur left quietly for Ithilien before the elf-prince or the King returned, he could take care of the Evenstar _long_ before either of them even realized it.

 _Thank you, Prince Legolas. You were a wealth of information._

For the glory of Gondor preserved.

* * *

It had taken them two weeks longer than Aragorn had hoped to be outside the northern borders of Ithilien. He was sitting beneath a tree; little did he know that the same flurries striking his cloak were the same flurries floating into Arwen's hair along the bank of the creek where she was pressing her face to the ground. His hip was mostly healed; his arm and chest were still taking too much time, but that wound had been much worse from the tearing of the warg's jaws. He flexed the fingers, testing them a bit more every day; his arm was still strapped to his side as a reminder not to press his luck.

Mennev lay sleeping a few feet away around a campfire that he had lit; the ride was taking its toll on his sleep the most. Hildanir was standing, staring off into the east, watching the quiet activity of the plumes of smoke rising from Mount Doom. They were quite close to it at the moment; not that there was anything to fear from it aside from an earthquake or two…or a serious eruption. He finally turned back to look at Aragorn.

The King sat with his head bowed, his hands clasped together, his fingers turning his wedding ring—a habit he had picked up in the last few weeks. His lips were moving in silent prayer but Hildanir could not hear the words. He waited until he could not see them moving anymore before he took a seat beside him. He did not offer any words of comfort; he simply sat quietly nearby.

Aragorn then did whisper aloud again, "Ilúvatar, protect her, _please._ Father, I beg you; I cry out to you to save her!" His words were whispered ardently, holding out for the hope that came from knowing the One. " _God,_ I know you are in control and that I can control nothing in this situation, but please…help me reach my beloved. _Please_." Hildanir felt awkward for a moment, wondering if he should rise again and leave the man alone, but then Aragorn's left hand touched his arm and he relaxed.

"I cannot feel her, Hildanir," he whispered, the hand on Hildanir's arm rising to his heart. "No matter what I try, I cannot reach her. A month now…without a single brush of her spirit against mine." His voice was so full of sorrow that Hildanir could feel a lump form in his own throat.

"Could there be another reason?" he asked. He had asked this before; the answer was always the same in the same quiet voice that Aragorn always seemed to speak in these days.

"I do not know. This has never happened before." Then the unspoken words that Hildanir always heard very clearly: _It is eating me alive; I am a wraith without her; I am nothing…_

"We are riding as straight and quick as we can," Hildanir reminded him. "We only have a few more days before we reach Minas Tirith. At most a week."

"It is…it has been so _long_." Hildanir looked where he was looking, and all he could see were trees. He knew, however, that Aragorn was probably looking directly through all of those trees, through Osgiliath, and over the Anduin, right into the heart of Minas Tirith.

"Have you…have you been able to…"

"No." Hildanir turned his head sideways and looked at his King…now, his friend.

"You need to forgive yourself."

"That is…impossible."

"It was not your fault."

"That does not matter."

"It will to her."

Hildanir's soft words were met with silence at first. Then he heard Aragorn's quiet voice, his head hanging low as he pulled his left knee up into his chest, wrapping his good arm around it so that he could rest his chin upon it. "We have this conversation each night."

"I know."

"What do you think it will prove?"

Hildanir sighed, miserable. "I hope that each time we have it, you move a bit closer to forgiveness over what happened. That it will remind you and encourage you. That it will give you hope…when you have lost sight of your own."

"My…heart _aches_ ," he whispered. "I can hardly describe what I feel." Hildanir did not try to convince him to talk, for it seemed he might have more words than he usually did. This conversation had already gone further than usual. "I am…missing a part of my heart. Touching her, sensing her in my head, knowing her feelings, her thoughts…it has become a part of me for more than forty years; though the last ten the connection has become stronger than anything I have ever known. Now it is… _gone_.

"And it is because of what _I_ have done."

The soldier shook his head. "It was not—"

"Hildanir, have you…" He gnawed on the words before saying them aloud; Hildanir could see his jaw working. "You are an honorable man, but do not be insulted when I ask this question: have you ever made love? You are not wed, but I do not presume—"

"No," he replied. "I thought perhaps Trena could have been the woman I wanted to marry, but…no. And I follow Ilúvatar's commands as you suspected," he added ruefully, giving half a smile. "Though when others are…giving into their desires, I sometimes wish I could."

Aragorn's eyes closed and so did his throat; he was unable to speak for a few moments. "Since I was twenty years of age, I have only ever loved her, Hildanir, and when I touched her for the first time ten years ago, I knew that it was _right_ to do so. A man is made for the woman he pledges himself to…one woman alone. Just as a woman should have one man. That I was blessed to have her, to be with her, that there was nothing more pure in all the world…"

"There are many who would say that is an _ancient_ idea," Hildanir muttered, though it was clear to Aragorn _he_ did not think so.

"They would be wrong. One man, one woman are meant for each other."

"But…Aragorn—"

"I made a vow, Hildanir," he whispered. "And what I allowed her to do…what I did… The hands that have only ever touched my wife have…" How could he continue? How could he say the words aloud? "And it was not only my hands…but my eyes, my _mouth_ …" He turned his face away his breath catching. "How can I forgive myself for that?"

" _She_ will forgive you," he insisted. "Once she knows the truth of what happened. If I find someone who I love with an _ounce_ of the love you have for one another I shall be blessed indeed. A relationship built for so long cannot be ended by man. She _will_ forgive. She loves you too much."

" _Oh_ …" he groaned, his arm tightening as he tugged his knee painfully against his chest, " _that is why I am so afraid._ "


	48. Chapter 48

_"Will you play for me?"_

 _She had asked the question without really thinking of what she was asking. It was spontaneous. They were not even supposed to be here, and she certainly was not supposed to be with him after Haldir's repeated and angry warnings, but his eyes_ had _been on the instrument; she knew they had. She did not know a thing about what he knew; she did not even know if he knew how to play the instrument—she did not, as her father had never had a violin—a fiddle, as men called them. And, she should have never asked for him to play for_ her _. What was she thinking? It was too personal! They barely knew one another…did they not?_

 _"I have not touched one of these in years." Aragorn spoke the words softly as he actually picked up the bow and instrument and studied them a moment, one finger strumming the strings. He lifted his eyes to her as he smiled. "I may not remember anything and embarrass myself."_

 _"You could try." The words fell out of her mouth and then she felt terribly embarrassed. "Forgive me," she said softly, "I should have asked if you knew how to play. You do not have to—"_

 _"No, no," he said softly, setting the instrument beneath his chin. "If the Lady wishes me to play, then play I shall. What shall I play?"_

 _How in the world could she respond to that? She did not care what he played as long as it was him and she was near enough to hear it. "Whatever you remember," she replied, her eyes transfixed on his._

 _He smiled. "I shall be cross if I discover that you are better than I."_

 _"Oh, that is impossible, my Lord," she said, shaking her head. "I do not know a single thing about that instrument."_

 _"Excellent. Then you cannot make fun of me when I make a mess of this song."_

 _She had not laughed in so long, she thought it might sound out of place, but…it did not, and her soft laughter and his quiet chuckle blended together quite perfectly._

 _And then he began to play, and she was lost in the beauty of the sound of it. He started slowly of course, getting his fingers used to playing the chords and strings again, but within a few minutes of playing it was as though he had been doing it his entire life. He moved from a slow, gentle ballad to a much more rhythmic piece that had her heart beating in its time. She could feel her whole body wanting to move to it as it began to crescendo when it ended abruptly._

 _His eyes were fixed on her as she opened hers to look at him; there was something in them that she could not read. "Why did you stop? It was so…beautiful."_

 _"This song needs a dancer," he said softly. "I used to play for others to dance in Rohan…in worship or celebration."_

 _She knew very well exactly what he was trying to say. She looked down at her hands and then back into his eyes. "I…do not know if I can." Her stomach turned. "I have not danced in…years." She held her breath._

 _"Nor have I fiddled. You could try." It was the smile on his lips that made her get to her feet as she let out the breath she had been holding._

 _"I do not know how to dance to this music…"_

 _"I…think you may simply need to remember…"_

 _And he began to play again, that incredible piece of music he had been playing and then, when the crescendo came...she felt her spirit rise with the beauty of it and she praised with the dance as he played until she was breathless…and she could see him, and she knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling while she did and for the first time in her life, she was pleased that someone thought her beautiful and meant it with every fiber of their being. And she suddenly realized that she did not only want to dance to his music…she wanted to dance for_ _ **him**_ _._

Two waking memories later, after the fifteenth time tonight that a memory from Lórien tore through her mind and tortured her, Arwen found herself stumbling to her feet and staggering away from the camp, just to get away, to be alone. _Why_ had Enguina needed to spend so much time today reliving the exploits of their past? She had thought focusing on them and talking of other things might help, that much had been obvious, but it was backfiring. All it was doing now was making her remember all of the first times that she and—had spent those months in Lórien. Her heart simply could not take any more.

The last memory she had been experiencing was his first pledge of love; oh, how it broke her heart. His words, the look in his eyes, the way he held her hands within his own…it made her want to die of heartache. Her hands clenched, _feeling_ his fingers holding her own. Without him she was nothing; she should have _died_ in Lothlórien all those years ago. Oh, if he had never _come_ …if her grandmother had never let him in…if she had never met him all those years before in Imladris…and the words of her father returned to her: _There is nothing for you here…only death._ Oh…had she only known how right he was!

She stumbled along, her foot catching on a root and she nearly went down to her knees before she caught herself one-handed on the tree, propelling herself forward again with her other hand clutching her chest so tightly. Her vision was blurred by her tears. Would it have been better to _never_ have loved him than to be feeling this agony? Would it have been better to have _never_ felt his arms around her? Seen the love shining in his eyes? Enjoyed the press of his lips to her flesh? Given all of herself to this man? _How_ she had given all to him! Her mind, the memories fading, was now tortured by visions of him with _her_. _How_ he would love her, look at her, touch her, lay his hands along her skin, touch her ears with trembling fingers, whisper words of his love into her throat as he leaned down over her, that weight so familiar settling over _her_ …

Suddenly, Arwen felt so weary, so exhausted, so physically ill that she simply could not stagger forward any further. She did fall to her knees then, her hand catching her before she fell onto her face, but it did not last long before she dropped the rest of the way onto her side like a stone. She struggled to breathe, trembling and crying like some wounded animal as she began to curl in on herself, agonizing pain taking over her chest and abdomen. Every muscle pulled taut, every nerve on end, she did not feel anything but the pain, not her fingers digging horribly into her own skin, nor the cramping in her body, not even the thick snow that had begun to fall.

"Hear, oh _Lord!_ " she whimpered out, her voice as broken as her spirit. "Hear me as I cry aloud, be… _gracious_ to me, _answer_ me! You have said, 'seek my face.' My _heart_ cries out to you, 'your face, Lord, do I seek!'" She bitterly wept, crying out to him in her mind, her heart with emotion beyond words. "Hide not your face from me! Turn not your servant away, oh, you who have been my help! Cast me not off; forsake me not, oh Ilúvatar, my salvation!

"Oh, your word says that you will not cast off forever, that though you cause grief you will have compassion according to the abundance of your steadfast love! _Where_? Where is your compassion? _Father…I am so desperate for it!_ _Please!_ _Please, give me relief or take me! Take me and end it all! Oh, I beg you!_ "

Her crying out began to blend together, the words mumbling even as she wept; she was growing so cold that she could not think, could not feel. Her words tumbled off incoherently and she simply lay there, beginning to drift in and out of consciousness, forgetting even who and where she was.

* * *

The stamping of Lómë's foot woke Enguina. She made to turn to her other side and curl back up again, but wet drops were falling on her from somewhere and snorting cut through her meandering mind that was still full of sleep. She attempted to roll over, but was hindered by her stomach. Uncomfortable and annoyed, she groaned and then heard Lómë whinny and stamp against the ground. She blinked several times and then propped herself upon her elbow to look over at him. He was throwing his head into the air—in fact, both he and Asfaloth were. Both had left long, pawing marks in the grass. Glancing to her left and then to her right, she discovered Arwen's sleeping mat was empty and that their fire had gone out…and looking about their meager camp, she saw no sign of her anywhere. What she did see was a one-inch blanket of white covering the ground and her boots, which were the only things sticking out from beneath the tree's branches.

A mild worry set in as Enguina sat up and looked around with an effort; still no Arwen. She got carefully to her feet with some difficulty, but she made it, staring around into the woods and listening to the tinkling silence of the snowfall. Panic began to gnaw at her…and then to grow.

"Arwen?" she called urgently, but there was, of course, no response in the darkness. She took a step forward, but Lómë and Asfaloth whinnied aloud; she immediately turned back and saw them jerking their heads southwards. There was nothing she was going to do without following their direction; she immediately began walking, her head swiveling left to right all the while and scanning for her best friend.

She thought of _nothing_ else. Not the fact that she was alone in the woods; not the fact that, at the moment, she was completely unarmed; not the fact that she was nine months pregnant and it was snowing rather hard. She thought of none of it. All she could think of was her terror that Arwen was missing and that she had not wandered off, but that she had left for a purpose…and that purpose was to…to…

 _No! I will_ _ **not**_ _think it! I will not!_

Because to think it was to admit the possibility that it could happen, which would make her hope into a lie. She trusted Ilúvatar with Arwen's life; she had to, because she was so exhausted that she could no longer keep an eye on her, or try to distract her, or try to encourage and cheer her. Oh the last few nights had been very hard indeed; yesterday, she had been lying on her face sobbing in the morning; the night before she had been crying down by the river. Enguina had even admitted to herself that it was bound to get worse before it got better; she had not expected Arwen to be settled in her heart over night! She simply _had_ to find her.

" _Arwen!_ "

She continued to cry out to her as she went along, her steps as quick as they could go as she prayed that she would answer. To even hear her voice again, just _once_ more! Oh, she was so frightened! She began to pray that the Valar would go before her as a shield; her hands began to shake with the fear of losing her closest friend.

That was when she saw her; covered with nearly an inch of snow, Arwen lay on her side, unmoving, curled into a tiny ball.

" _Ilúvatar, please!_ " Enguina cried out, begging for her to still be alive. She ran for her.

As she drew close, she immediately saw that Arwen had to be alive as corpses did not tremble. Kneeling down beside her, she shook her, calling out her name; she did not respond. Enguina reached out and began to brush the thick snow from Arwen's face and hair and then continued down her shoulders and side.

"Arwen, answer me," she said loudly, but Arwen could not respond, whether lost in some waking dream or unconscious. This worried Enguina, but not as much as warming her as soon as possible. She did not know why she was on the ground yet—could she be hurt? Had she thrown herself down here to die? No, she was not hidden from sight and she had clearly fallen; there was mud on her clothes and face, her knees. If she could not rouse her, Enguina would need to attempt to light a fire and then return and bring the horses to them.

At least she had a plan.

* * *

When Arwen woke, she had no idea how long she had been out of it. She knew that she was as stiff as a stone, every joint ached, and her hands were like icicles. Blinking, her eyes finally focused on flames that were clearly intended to warm her. _Enguina_.

Guilt poured into her heart like a thundershower. For Enguina to have found her? For Enguina to have woken and gone searching for her? _What_ she must have thought! What she must have _felt_! Tears filled her eyes as she tried to control her emotions, squeezing her eyes closed. How _terrible_ a friend she was! How could she have done this to her?

She heard footsteps and then the scuff of Enguina's boots only a step above her head.

"Are you awake?"

The words were soft; there was no anger in them, but Arwen felt shame fill her. She rolled to her hands and knees and scooted forward, grasping the heel and foot of Enguina's left boot in her hands and pressing her face to it, her shoulders shaking with her tears.

" _Arwen_ , what are you—"

" _Enguina,_ _I am sorry! I am so sorry! Forgive me!_ _Forgive me, please, Enguina!_ "

Enguina stared down at her, listening to her cries, and suddenly wanted to _rage_. Her emotions ran amok. Fury that Arwen had left her and could have seriously been hurt and the terror that she had experienced over the mile she had gone from the horses to find her, all of it wanted to explode from her at once and she _barely_ controlled it. She wanted to yank her foot away and start screaming so loudly her throat would ache. But she had _sworn_ that she would not be angry like that in front of the baby…and on top of that, it would not solve a _damn_ thing. Instead, she counted to a quick ten until the heat had faded from her face and heart.

"Stop it, Arwen," she said, her voice still soft though this time by force. As she kept talking it became easier. "I am just glad that I found you and that you are all right."

Arwen shook her head against Enguina's foot, trying to regain control of her emotions; it was difficult. " _I am so sorry that I walked away…I did not know what I was doing…_ "

 _I want to believe that, Arwen. But I am afraid…afraid for you and your mind right now._ She reached down and pulled Arwen upright, forcing her to release her foot. She carefully sat down and took both of her hands in one, wiping her friend's face. "Arwen," she said seriously, looking into her face even as Arwen tried not to look into her eyes, "you cannot wander off like that again. You frightened me half to death."

" _I am so, so sorry…_ " she whispered, and she had to look into Enguina's face then.

"I forgive you," she told her gravely, "but you cannot do that again. _Promise_ me you will not do that again. Not out here. I do not care how far away you want to get. You are with me…nowhere else on this road we are traveling." She squeezed her hands. "I am doing this for _you_. _Promise me_."

Arwen stared at her. How could she make that promise? The memories were killing her, driving her into madness. Slowly, true, but definitely closer to madness each hour they went on…but it was _not_ fair to Enguina…and she had promised Legolas she would take care of her. Guilt gnawed at her. Arwen's hands trembled in Enguina's.

" _I promise_."

"Mean it," Enguina stated, but not angrily. She wanted to be sure Arwen would not frighten her this way again. She _had_ to be sure of it.

"I swear it," Arwen whispered, her eyes filling once again with tears. "I swear I will not leave your side again."

Enguina nodded and squeezed Arwen's hands. "I know you will not. Now, turn about, get off your knees, and warm your hands at the fire; they are _freezing._ " She helped Arwen to sit down and then sat down beside her, taking her hands once more and rubbing them. She could see Arwen eyeing her, but she was determined to let it pass. Arwen had promised; that was enough for her. " _Goodness_ , you really _are_ cold." Arwen stared at her, not even feeling her friend rubbing her cold fingers as she really noticed Enguina for the first time in several weeks, even as she continued to chatter. "We have nearly an inch of this beautiful snow, _so_ early for the first week in November, and I cannot even throw snowballs at Legolas or—"

Her mouth stilled when she felt one of Arwen's hands slip from hers and alight over her womb, her eyes now staring at the place where the child lay. An elbow or a knee protruded gently beneath her hand, and Enguina watched her.

"What is it?" she asked. Arwen's face was unreadable.

"I…" Her throat closed and she had to swallow, and then she looked over into Enguina's eyes. "I have not been a good friend to you, Enguina."

Confusion and surprise flitted across the older elf's face. "Arwen, what are you talking about? You are always—"

"No…not these past few months," she whispered hoarsely, her left arm coming up to cross her chest again. "I have been jealous of you, and sad all the time. I have barely paid any attention to you and your child, and here you are—nine months—and I feel as though I have missed the whole pregnancy." She looked so sad in that moment. "This should have been a happy time for you and Legolas and instead…you have had to deal with all of this heartache…the stoning…the people… You…" Her eyes went from Enguina's to the hand on her womb. "You should never have come to Minas Tirith. Not for me."

Enguina reached down and covered Arwen's hand with her own. "Yes, I should have. Because no matter how much you do not want me sometimes, no matter how uncomfortable I am, no matter how much worry I have, you are my closest, dearest friend and I belong at your side. Especially when you are so hurt…so full of agony. You cannot blame yourself for what has happened. None of it was within your power to control."

"But neither of you deserve—"

"Arwen, this is the world," she whispered. "Bad things happen all the time and we must rise above them." _Like Aragorn loving you in the first place…and tearing apart your heart._

Arwen was silent for a little while, and then the hand beneath Enguina's began to tremble again. "What if we cannot?"

"What?"

"What if we cannot rise above them?" she asked, her voice tight.

Enguina looked over at her, head bowed, shoulders trembling. She released Arwen's hand and picked up the extra blanket she had brought with her and wrapped it around her friend's shoulders, knowing the cold had spread much further than her hands.

"You…must find a way to let him go," she told her gently, and she noticed Arwen's arm tighten across her chest. She knew the words hurt; knew they were tearing more at her heart, but they needed to be said. Someone needed to say them aloud. "He…is gone, my dearest friend. He is not coming back to you. He betrayed you; you have to find a way to let him go, and let the wounds heal. You cannot let him keep breaking them open like this."

Enguina watched her face contort with grief as she tried to master her emotions. The hand that had been on Enguina's belly came up to cover her face, but tears already began slipping out between her fingers.

" _How?_ " she groaned aloud.

She wrapped an arm around Arwen's shoulders. "Admit to yourself what has happened. He wronged you; he betrayed you. His infidelity to you only proves…only proves that…"

"Proves…?"

Enguina hesitated as she watched Arwen pull her knees up to her chest. Should she say what she was thinking? Could she, by saying it aloud, get Arwen to understand it with her head so she could heal in her heart…or would it only make it worse? And in that moment, she had never hated Aragorn more, that he had done this to her, that he had torn her friend to pieces.

Her jaw set.

"That he is only a _man_ …capable only of fleeting passion," she whispered as she tried to soften the blow of the words even though her heart wanted to rage. She had known this fact about men since before she knew that Arwen had wed one. Elves had always known these things about the race of men, but she had wanted to believe in him—Aragorn, so trustworthy, so dependable, so kind, and good and incapable of hurting _anyone_ like this. She was so _angry_. "That he is incapable of loving like _us_ —strong, steadfast, _forever_."

Ten years, she had devoted her life to him! Ten years he had cherished her! And his words flooded her mind: _Do not ever doubt my love for you, how happy you make me, how desperately I need you to be with me always._ _Let my love be stronger than whatever you dream. Let my love be stronger than any doubt that is trying to take hold in you. I adore and cherish you, with everything I am. Since I was twenty years old, Arwen, I have loved you every moment of my life._

Enguina's words, that he was incapable of loving like her, made Arwen's head shake fiercely back and forth, even as her fingers wound deeply into her hair. " _No, no…that is not true!_ "

"How…how can it not be?" Enguina continued. "Look at what he has done, what he has chosen to do instead of—" She broke off, frustrated, angry. "I am sorry," she said instead, her voice dropping again with compassion, pity. "I am so distraught over you, over what he has done to you. He…he was supposed to love you forever; he _promised_ to love you forever. I trusted him with your heart."

Arwen broke down, rocking now, the agony sweeping over her as she painfully moaned aloud. " _He did! He loved me; he did!_ " she cried out, her voice so full of grief that Enguina wrapped her arms around her to prevent her rocking, to hold her still. When she did, Arwen buried her face in her neck and sobbed. It was the first time she did not try to pull away from her to suffer alone. She sought Enguina for a refuge, unable to battle back the grief.

Enguina held her tight, laying her head upon hers, Arwen's body wracked with sobs, heart-wrenching, breath-gasping sobs. But her hands were fists, her anger not dissipating even in her compassion for Arwen. Oh, how she _hated_ him! How she wanted to wound him as he had done to her, tell him exactly what she thought of him, violently strike him, and call him every foul name she thought of him. _Why_ would he do this to her? How _could_ he? They had trusted him, every last one of them. And he _had_ loved her…good god, she had seen it _herself_ when he had carried her so tenderly, had kissed her forehead in front of them, had stroked her hair…

 _But it was not enough, Arwen…god, it was not enough. The world, his position, his lineage, the expectations of his rank…it was all too much. How I wish it had been enough, my dearest friend. Oh, how I wish I could have protected you from this heartbreak, from this loss. Dear Lord in Heaven, please…take this from her! Help her to forget, even if for a little while. Help me to comfort her somehow, bear this rage somehow so it does not affect her so, so that I do not wear my animosity for him so that she may be faced with it. Find a way, please, to help her. You are the great healer, the compassionate one, the one who is in control always. I know this, even when I could not see it for the longest time myself. Give her healing, please!_

There was nothing she could do physically for Arwen but hold onto her. Praying for her was the only way she thought she could minister to her. And she prayed, and _prayed_ , that something would give, that this would end somehow and Arwen could be well again. She still hoped for a miracle.

* * *

"Here it is," Enguina said with a little laugh, but Arwen could tell there was pride in it as well.

Asfaloth and Lómë entered the clearing through the trees on the opposite side of the pasture fence, but there was nothing to block Arwen's view of the perfect barn and then the glade with the house beyond. She reined Asfaloth back and stared as Enguina slowed near the edge of the pasture.

"It is home," Enguina said softly, and Arwen shook her head.

"No, it is _perfect_. The sun lights it just as she exclaimed it to be." She finally tore her eyes from the place and looked to Enguina who was staring back at her with her eyes shining. "It is the most beautiful home. Ilúvatar has truly blessed you."

She smiled at her. "Wait until you see the inside!" As the two of them began to make their way towards the pasture gate and the barn, a flash of red lightning was barreling through the grass within the fence, whinnying a greeting. Enguina's head came up and she laughed. "Oh goodness! I forgot that Legolas had said he returned here with everything from Gimli! That includes Radost!"

The little sorrel came trotting along the fence line, little whinnies of greeting leaving her throat as Arwen smiled for the first time since that morning. "She is a little spit-fire, is she not?"

"Legolas had said that," Enguina agreed as both Asfaloth and Lómë whinnied in greeting as well. "I am sure she is glad not to be alone anymore."

After dismounting, Arwen began unsaddling their mounts and placing many of their things within the stable. Some of the gifts for the baby Enguina had brought home with her, so Enguina loaded herself down with as many as she could carry and began taking them toward the house. Arwen released the two horses out into the pasture and the three immediately began to investigate one another. It was a sight to behold, and Arwen could not help but lean on the fence and enjoy the beauty of the horses running and chasing one another. She only realized that she must have been standing there for some time when she heard Enguina calling for her. She bent down and scooped the last of their belongings into her arms and made her way across the open glen to the front stepping stones. She was having trouble taking it all in as she saw how incredibly beautiful it was. Enguina had _every_ reason to be proud of it.

The house was set back in the glade, and all around it were perfect flowers and a perfect little garden. The stepping stones were placed just-so, and she could see there were also beautiful flowers all about the sides of the house as well; two wells, one out front and around the back. Arwen stopped in the center of it all and completed a turn, taking in everything from all sides. Yes…this place was perfect for Legolas and Enguina…and the perfect setting to raise a new child. There would be such love here. She would never have imagined it any other way.

Heading towards the house, she tried not to be bitter; Enguina now had the perfect marriage and the perfect home as she had once shoved in Arwen's face in her anger. She, however, had lost everything. Enguina was the only person she had left at the moment, as even Legolas was far away, so she had better not do anything to hurt that relationship. The staggering weight of that made her trip up the front steps, dropping several items as her right hand flung out to prevent her fall, but it was Enguina who caught her arm at the end, making sure she did not crash to the ground. She steadied her and lifted her back to her feet, even though Arwen's knees were trembling.

"Careful," Enguina said, and Arwen looked into her eyes, suddenly thinking about everything that had fallen apart. She literally had no one. Her closest friends were either scattered to the four winds, or…they had betrayed her irrevocably.

"Thank you," she said quietly, and then she swallowed hard, leaning down to pick up some of the items that she had dropped. When she straightened, Enguina smiled at her, extending an arm toward the door.

"Come inside and see the house; we will set those things on the table for now with the others. I will try to find some places for them later." She laughed as Arwen walked inside and she followed her. "It is a bit dusty at the moment, but it is home!"

Arwen stood there, now taking in the _inside_ of the house after dropping the load of items onto the table. She leaned a hip against a chair and stared around...as Enguina stared at her. A flood of memories from the past week of traveling came to the older elf; she was exhausted, and it was not only because of the trip itself. She studied her friend as she looked around the open room; Arwen was _not_ improving. If anything, she was getting worse; she was not eating, and yesterday when she had tried to she had become physically ill not an hour later. Arwen had brushed it off, but it had frightened _her_ ; there was no reason for her not to keep down food. She was _literally_ wasting away. Clothes that had once fit her just fine now were nearly two sizes too large, like the tunic she was wearing at the moment. She wished there was something more she could do…

"This is…" Arwen began, and then she shook her head, looking to Enguina. "This house is so beautiful, Enguina. _Everything_ about it—the outside, the flowers, the barn, the trees, the river…and in here…oh, it is _beautiful_."

Enguina beamed, thrilled that her friend clearly thought the way she did, but Arwen noticed the way she leaned back against the door. " _Thank_ you. I am so glad you like it. Legolas and I have been enjoying every moment that we have spent here since it was completed, and I am so glad that you are here to see it as well."

Arwen reached over and touched her arm. "You are tired, Enguina," she said softly.

"Exhausted, actually," she admitted. "But I want to give you the grand tour—I have never been able to do it," she laughed, pulling herself upright, "as everyone who has ever been here was here as it was built!"

Arwen smiled. "I know you do, and you can, just…how about you take a short nap first? While you are doing that, I can do a bit of cleaning in here, make it look a little more lived in…and clean off some of the dust," she offered. Enguina looked horrified.

" _No,_ " she stressed. "That is simply ridiculous. I will not have you cleaning my house for me! You are my guest!"

" _Please_ ," Arwen begged softly. "It would be my pleasure. As soon as you wake, you can give me the official walk through. You really do need to rest."

"So do you," Enguina pointed out, staring at the circles beneath Arwen's eyes.

"Well…that has been going well so far," she tried to tease, but her voice was too soft. She cleared her throat and lifted a shoulder. "Instead, I thought I might as well make myself useful while I am awake." Enguina debated. She _was_ tired, but she did not really want to leave Arwen alone in the house just now. Arwen lifted her eyebrows. "It is taking you that long?"

Enguina rolled her eyes and tossed a hand flippantly. "Fine! You win. But at least let me show you the room you will be in," she stated. "That will make me feel a little better." She walked toward the hall in front of them and turned right. "You are going to be right here, where—"

She stopped dead in the middle of the hall, three steps before the first room and then turned immediately around, pointing the other way in Arwen's face as she had almost walked into her. "No, no, you will not be actually. You will be over there. Walk that way, please."

"Enguina…let me not be an inconvenience to you. Whatever you had planned—"

" _No,_ " she stated firmly, turning Arwen around by her shoulders. "That is final. You will _not_ sleep in that bed. No, no, _no._ " Arwen suddenly realized _why_ Enguina did not want her in that corner of the house…she found it difficult to even think her name.

 _I may very well burn that whole corner down._ Everywhere Enguina looked now, she could see the final touches that _Erumar_ had helped put here and there within their home. It suddenly made her sick to her stomach and she rubbed her hand against her womb. Oh… _why_ did she think that this was going to be better for Arwen? Did Erumar not stay here the entire time since the home had been built? Was there not memory of her everywhere? Why did Aragon have to seduce _her_? _Why, oh why did Erumar have to do something so awful?_

Arwen was following obediently behind her as she opened the door and waved her inside. "You can sleep here; this is a different guest room." She tried to smile at her. "Honestly, if we ever have more than one child, this will become his room."

Arwen looked around the room, nodding. "It is beautiful, Enguina," she said softly. "Are you sure it will be no trouble to have me here instead of—?"

"Arwen," Enguina chided her, "no, it will be no trouble. Why would it when the room is already prepared? Please, I want you to be comfortable here, and…trust me when I say that sleeping in that room…well, it would be no help at all." She finished the last softly, but Arwen gave no sign. "I _am_ glad you like it, though."

"Oh, it is lovely," she said, lifting her head and attempting a smile. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"I am so delighted to have you near, honestly," Enguina admitted, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. "And in spite of deciding that I was going to have my child in Minas Tirith, I am really pleased to be home and intending to give birth here." She gave a timid smile. "Even if I am getting more nervous by the day."

"I think it is time you got off your feet," Arwen said gently. "We will talk about all of your fears as soon as you wake; for now, put them from your mind, and go to sleep in your own bed for the first time in months. When you wake, I will have this house looking a bit more lived in."

Enguina rolled her eyes. "I know there is no arguing with you, and I _am_ tired. But I will only go easily if you promise me that if _you_ feel tired, you will also take a nap. Really. Right here in this room." _Only a stone's throw from my door so I can hear you at all times._

"If I grow weary, I will," Arwen acquiesced. "You have my word. I can find my way around for an hour or so without you."

"Well, you are more than welcome to explore the house if you choose. Please do not feel limited in anyway. What is ours is yours…as it was in your home, so it shall be here." She smiled at her, and then she sobered, reaching out and stroking her cheek with her fingers. "Oh dearest…I hope you can find some peace here. Everything is going to be all right, you know."

Arwen had closed her eyes at the touch, and she reached up and squeezed Enguina's hand. "Thank you," she said softly. Enguina leaned over and hugged her tightly.

"I love you."

She swallowed hard before she could speak. "I love you, too," she replied, and then Enguina released her with a smile and headed into her bedroom just slightly down the hall. As soon as the door closed, Arwen collapsed against the wall of the guestroom, dropping her head back and closing her eyes.

 _Alone at last. No more trying to pretend that you are all right. Not a single reason to speak. No more…_

Her arms came up once more to grip her chest; the bruising had definitely gotten worse over the last week, but the familiar pain helped ease the unending ache in her chest. Her knees trembled—she had been on her feet too long. She slowly sank to the floor where she stood, keeping her back against the wall before drawing her knees to her chest and resting her head on them, her breathing shallow. She was growing so much weaker by the day and thinner; she was losing weight so rapidly. She knew that Enguina hoped she might now get better, that somehow being in this house would make things better, but the reality was that she was not eating, not sleeping, and that she had no more desire to get involved with life than where her mind was right now: disengaged, alone, trying to remind her lungs to fill with air.

Her heart cried for Ilúvatar's presence; she knew in that sense she was not alone. She simply could not hear his voice, feel his presence. And as she began trembling, she wanted her beloved's arms around her, holding her tight, forming a wall against the darkness in her heart…and then she would remember that he was the cause of it. Her nails were digging into the flesh of her breasts again; they had grown long once more. She knew that she had told Enguina she was going to clean a bit, but at the moment, she needed to take a few just to pull herself together in order to do that.

But being alone helped; it did not require as much energy to sit here as it did to carry on a conversation. And once she got to her feet again, she could honestly clean fairly easily. She rubbed her moist eyes against her knees and sighed, clenching and unclenching her hands tightly. She would have to get up soon…she could occupy herself with cleaning for an hour or so, but she would not lie down as Enguina suggested. Whenever she lay down, she had nightmares or dreams; the waking dreams were so much worse, but she had been able to avoid them for the past few days. She wiped her eyes against her knees once more; she hated to admit it, but Enguina was so very wrong—nothing would ever be all right again.

* * *

 _I begin this letter out of the hope now that I shall never see your face again. The dire circumstances in which we find the longest and most meaningful of friendships cannot be undone. You have broken that which is irreparable; nothing can be said to alter it, nothing can be done to improve it. I must leave you this letter in hope that you will understand the grave situation you shall find yourself if you should follow us to Ithilien._

 _Shall I begin, then, with the list of wrongs?_

 _One: that you deliberately have misled, and terribly misused and mistreated, the one person in your life who trusted you to the utmost. You have wrongfully wounded the woman you have claimed to love all of your life; that you have loved her since you were but twenty years of age; that you had sworn to love her for all of the days that Ilúvatar had given you. What you have done, you may say, does not mean that you do not love her; oh, but you are wrong. To love someone is to cherish their heart. To abuse someone is to destroy that heart. Therefore, you cannot love the Evenstar of my people as you professed to for so long. You filthy liar._

 _Second: you have committed adultery, a crime against the natural bond that all Elvendom sees as sacred, and a crime against Ilúvatar that cannot be forgiven. You selfish bastard! Only thinking of yourself and your need for an heir; only caring for the throne of a lineage that you had always sought to rise above. You have fallen into the same pit as Isildur! You are no better than he who chose to possess the Ring; instead, you think that you may possess women. How many, you adulterer? How many others have you seduced when I thought you to be something other than what you are? How long have you been wronging her?_

 _Which leads to three: you have seduced an elf maiden to do your bidding. I do not know what filthy lies, what disgusting advances and promises you must have made to the whore that you have lain with, but she is no longer known to us by name. In fact, she will no longer be known to us at all._

 _Finally: your most grievous sin. That you willingly took the hand of the Evenstar of my people— willingly took it—and her love, and her body, and her adoration for and devotion to you and have destroyed her heart with your desire for something you cannot be patient enough to let her provide. You have taken the immortal life of the Evenstar of my people within your hand and you have snuffed it out. Her light fades as I write; her heart dies within her chest; she barely breathes—these are the things that you have done to her. Oh, may Ilúvatar have no mercy on you for this despicable thing you have done!_

 _I curse you, Elessar of the House of Telcontar! I curse you to be barren and childless all the days of your life! May any whore that you now choose or that you have chosen die childless and barren as well, and may each one, as long as they live, live in agony of some terrible illness or disease! May their lives be short! May yours be as well! And may you never forget what you have done; may it haunt every moment of your life from here to eternity; and may you rot in all the hells of Morgoth for what you have done to her. I cannot even bear to write her name, and I will not disgrace this page or ink by writing the name of the man I had called friend for so long. May the name Elessar live in infamy and disgrace among every elf who will ever walk in Middle-Earth._

 _I will never speak your name again; you will forever be known as Adulterer , Betrayer, to me and my house. If you ever set foot in the woods of the Ithilien Elves again, I will aim and fire an arrow into your black heart. Stay away from us, from my kin, forever. For what you have done, there can be no forgiveness._

 _Legolas_


	49. Chapter 49

Author's Note: To my guest reviewer from yesterday(Noooo, lol)-hey, I seriously appreciate your kind thoughts on my writing and your opinion. Yes, I KNOW it's just your opinion, but you know, I never think much to pacing of a story. I think of 'scenes' as on screen moments in a movie almost, and I often put so much thought into what the characters are thinking and feeling that I never think to how long it becomes when scenes are playing out or how long the reader spends in a 'wow, she's in a bad mood' state. So, thank you so much for your input! I went back through the future scenes I haven't posted yet, and I slimmed them down to reflect what I think might be better pacing and a focus on what needs to happen to move the story ALONG, not just on character moments. Again, THANK YOU. Opinions matter (at least to me!), especially when they are helpful!

And finally... :O)

* * *

It was early evening when the King of Gondor arrived at the gates of Minas Tirith with his two escorts to the clear ringing of silver trumpets and shouts of the people announcing his presence. Even those asleep woke themselves enough to come out to see him make his way through the City, though Aragorn would have been far more pleased had none announced they had arrived. It was five weeks to the day since he had last felt Arwen's touch, and he appeared as a wraith, the loss of contact with her eating him alive. He knew what he looked like simply by the comments of the people. He was still unwell; he had thought he might have healed more quickly by now but the constant grueling hours of riding and his worry for Arwen was taking its toll. His arm was still strapped tightly to his side and he had been unable to come to Minas Tirith any faster. Oh, how he had tried! Speaking with Hildanir and Mennev had kept him sane while he desperately sought Ilúvatar for strength, to find a way to keep going amidst all of his turmoil. He was _terrified_ of what it meant to not feel her, be able to touch her. No one could understand…no one, except perhaps Legolas because he had a connection of his own.

Upon entering the stable, all three were met with groomsmen looking to take their horses. Aragorn nearly collapsed upon dismounting, though he was very grateful for Hildanir's hand grabbing his good arm. He turned to speak to them as Mennev lowered himself to lean against a hay bale and stretch out his legs, but his eyes landed on Glosbrethil in a stall. So, Legolas _had_ arrived. He immediately scanned the barn area again, his eyes searching at once for his wife. She would have come…he _knew_ she would have…unless something was wrong. Still searching, he noticed something equally disturbing.

"I'm sore," sighed Mennev, rubbing his legs.

Hildanir nodded, they all were, but his eyes were fixed on the King.

"Elessar? What is it?"

Brego whinnied as a man led him towards his stall, and Aragorn replied, "Asfaloth and Lómë are missing." He knew they would have seen them as they entered, and Arwen would never have taken Enguina to their pasture in the mountains…and Enguina would not be out riding this late in her pregnancy. Something was not right…where could they be?

At that moment, Brethil lunged over the stall door, teeth bared, snatching at Brego along his mane. The bay reared, yanking his lead from his handler, ears flattened as he, too, lashed out at Brethil, screaming loudly as his shod hooves clattered against the wood. The gray reared up as well, snorting and stamping flashing hooves as he crashed against his stall door. The groomsman yelled and tried to grab Brego again, the two horses snapping and snarling at each other over the door.

"What the devil's gotten into them?" cried Mennev, who had leapt to his feet.

Aragorn did not make a move to assist; he did not have the strength for it. He did answer Mennev's question though. "It is an argument. Apparently…" Aragorn faded off as he realized not what, but _who_ they were arguing about even as the groomsman dragged Brego out of reach of Brethil's teeth. "It is about me," Aragorn muttered, confused. The exchange was so heated, the man could hardly understand it. Both Hildanir and Mennev appeared confused as well.

"What? Why?" asked Hildanir, turning to Aragorn, who shook his head.

"I cannot understand them well enough," he replied, but then turned back to his men. "Mennev, would you be kind enough to find Councilman Nardur and deliver him to the King's House? I need to return there, and I must confront him about—"

Aragorn's voice cut out in his distraction, and both men turned to look toward the door of the stable where a familiar figure stood in the entryway.

"Legolas," Aragorn sighed, filled with such relief he could have wept. A great burden felt as though it had been lifted—finally, _answers_! Finally, some relief from the agony he had been feeling! To see his friend after oh, so long!

Legolas's teeth set and he scowled deep and long, his eyes more full of ice than they had ever been. Upon hearing the trumpets, there was nothing else he could do but go to the stable where he _knew_ the man would be. He had made no time for prayer, no time to ask for help in what to say; this conversation had been brewing for two weeks and he was ready for it, shoving all thought of mercy from his mind. Seeing the man, having him come toward him with such relief, such _joy_ at seeing him, was enough to make him desire to tear him limb from limb. His hands clenched in a fit of rage and his eyes darkened, his face unreadable stone. Legolas took in nothing about the man save his face—his _awful_ , _lying,_ _adulterous_ face!

In a flash, he drew his bow and cocked an arrow, aiming straight for the man's black heart, just as he had written only days ago. " _Not one more step_ ," Legolas said, every word punctuated with anger, and how his voice came out evenly he surely did not know. Aragorn stilled, at once noticing his posture, his look, his tone of voice. He was too stunned to reply immediately, though Mennev and Hildanir responded directly by drawing their own weapons, reacting to the threat to their King before remembering who it was _presenting_ that threat.

Legolas filled the space Aragorn could not. "Do _not_ greet me," he snarled coldly. "We are _not_ well-met. I had hoped I would never see your face again." Aragorn stared at him, at a loss for words to defuse the situation. The two men behind him took a more aggressive stance.

"Lower your weapon, Prince Legolas!" called Mennev, nodding towards him. But Aragorn held his left hand down, back behind him, signaling them to wait, to be patient…to not act.

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, to say the elf's name, but Legolas snapped again at him, cutting off his words. "You _dare_ to return and look upon me with _relief_! As if I could ever excuse what you have done, you _lying bastard_!" Legolas was trembling with anger, his fingers ready to allow the arrow to fly; Hildanir and Mennev stood poised, ready to prevent him from murdering their King. There was total silence in the stable; Legolas coiled as tight as a metal spring.

Aragorn held up his good hand, looking directly into the elf's eyes. "Legolas, what—"

"Do not speak my name and play the fool! Do not pretend you do not know anything!"

"Wait a minute—" began Hildanir.

"See here!" shouted Mennev at the same time, but Aragorn stepped forward.

"Legolas, _please_ , where is Arw—"

Legolas saw white and heard nothing else. He had said her _name; how_ _ **dare**_ _he speak her name!_

His shaking hand released the arrow; it was only by the grace of Ilúvatar that Aragorn dropped his shoulder in time to stay barely out of harm's way, his guard yelling at the top of their lungs. The elf dropped the bow and lunged for the man's throat, ending up slamming him in the chest with both hands as wild as he was with rage and grief. He was shouting things that were barely intelligible, though Aragorn heard and understood two of them: 'dare you' and 'speak her name,' as he hit the ground and rolled aside to avoid what would have been a well-placed foot to his chin. Because he was who he was, he rolled over again and rose to one knee, blocking and dodging one, two, three, four hand-jabs to his chest and face. He was so stunned he could barely get his hand up to block the elf, and then Legolas kicked him hard enough in the ribs that it nearly knocked the wind out of him. He grabbed Legolas's arm as it came around again and shoved back hard enough to scramble to his feet before he had to block twice more and ram the elf with his own shoulder to put some space between them.

Hildanir and Mennev lunged forward to help him as he was clearly in pain, but Aragorn shouted at them to stay back. "Stop this!" he said to Legolas, holding up his hand again, but that only made Legolas see more fury. He wanted to take a month's worth of Arwen's pain out upon this man.

" _You_ _ **never**_ _loved her!_ " he snarled as he launched himself forward again, reaching to _hurt_ , to _wound_. Jab after jab, punch after punch rained down upon Aragorn's shoulders, chest, ribs, falling like rain. Each one wounded him, even as he desperately tried to recognize why his friend was so angry; but he would not hit back. He simply tried to deflect the blows, which was nearly impossible in his condition and with only one arm. In all the years he had known the elf, he had never seen him so out-of-control; there was no strategy at all to Legolas's pure rage and it took everything out of Aragorn simply to stay on his feet. Mennev, Hildanir, and now every stable hand was ready to leap forward—on the King's command. Still, it did not come.

" _You filthy_ _ **adulterer**_ _!_ " Legolas shouted the words, inches from Aragorn's face. The word stalled Aragorn's brain, muddled his response, and Legolas hammered him once across the abdomen and the man's hip gave out. He dropped to his knees, trying to protect himself and then leaned back to dodge the elf's snatching for his throat again. He fell back, shouting the elf's name, a plea for mercy, and Legolas was on him in an instant, furious blows raining upon the man who had been his dearest friend.

Legolas was shouting unintelligibly, and over that Aragorn could hear the horrified yelling of Hildanir and Mennev, even the stable hands. But this had to end, because Legolas was surely going to kill him and he could not fight back, and he could not let Hildanir and Mennev hurt Legolas. The elf _would_ kill him, and then all of Gondor would see him hang.

He got one hand up beneath Legolas's guard and desperately hit the elf with every last bit of strength he had, flinging him off and back with the help of his feet so he could scramble to his knees, bent over in pain, trying to regain his breath. Legolas, nearly seven feet away, was struggling to get up himself; it was clear he barely had a breath since the fight began as whatever air he had, he had lost. This was the perfect time to interrupt the elf's rampage.

"If...if you would please…let me speak…" Aragorn groaned, the wounds in his right arm aching and his hip injury making his leg tremble beneath him. His knees might not support him for long.

"Close your mouth with its poison words! You do not deserve to speak!" Legolas shouted back, yanking himself to his feet to glare down at Aragorn, ready to lunge forward again. "My people gave you what was most precious, most treasured in our hearts and what have you done to cherish her? _You!"_ he spat like a curse. " _You_ betrayed her! All of it, from the moment you met her, was a lie! _You never loved her_!"

Aragorn's hand came up and gripped his chest, the movement so reminiscent of what Arwen had been doing for a month that he saw red. "Legolas, _please_! Let me explain!"

"You seduced that _whore_ ," he snapped, and a gasp came from Hildanir, "and made her do your bidding! I do not know what _lies_ you told her to give in to you, but being King does not grant you the right to do whatever you wish! You have _destroyed_ her heart! _You have killed her_!"

Aragorn's heart bottomed out in his toes and he gasped, planting his elbow to his knee so that he could remain upright. " _Please, Legolas…_ "

" _Who are you? Did I ever know you? How long have you been bedding women on the side? What sorts of fools were we to ever trust the race of men and their fleeting love?_ " Legolas's voice was full of contempt as he continued, "May Ilúvatar _smite_ you as you kneel there _for every lying word that ever came from your deceitful lips!_ "

"I have lied about _nothing!_ " Aragorn cried out. "Let me speak! Arwen—"

" _ **Do not speak her name!**_ " Legolas roared, lunging for his throat again. This time, Hildanir jumped in between, unable to watch his lord take any more beatings.

"Get back, Prince Legolas, and listen!" the man snapped, shoving the elf backward hard enough for him to stumble. "Do not be a fool! _Listen_ to the King!"

"And _you_ ," Legolas said, glaring at the man who now stood between them, his hands curling into fists, " _you_ are the one who wrote those filthy letters, containing all the information for the coun—"

"Letters?" Hildanir repeated, staring at him. "I have sent no letters, my Lord."

"What's this you're accusing the King of?" asked Mennev from behind Aragorn. Hildanir took a step to the side, allowing Aragorn to look at Legolas again.

"I accuse him of being an _adulterer_ —lying with another woman while married to his wife! I accuse him of being a _traitor_ —plotting against the Evenstar so that he could assure himself of an heir of his own bloodline! I accuse him of being a _conspirator_ —joining himself with evil men so that he could accomplish his own ends, uncaring of the lives he destroyed in the process! I accuse him of being a _deceiver_ —that every word that has come from his mouth about the woman who he professed to love is a filthy lie!"

"Adulterer, traitor, conspirator, deceiver," repeated Mennev, sheathing his sword. "These're high crimes, Prince."

" _If_ they were true," Hildanir said, "they would be crimes enough to set him on trial."

"You must be mad to believe them," Aragorn said softly, trying to force the pain away, his hand holding his heart, "or you must have undeniable proof."

Legolas's upper lip curled, his eyes icy daggers. " _Proof_ you say. Yes, there is proof! _You_ journeyed north, taking that whore with you—"

" _Please_ , Prince!" cried Hildanir. "I cannot stomach that word!"

"There is no better word for her!" he snapped and turned to Aragorn again. "The whore went with you—a woman who resembles the Evenstar too much for it to be a mistake. You took her to lie with you so that she might bear you a son, a plot _you_ made with the council. You were with her numerous times before the journey as well; even _Enguina_ knew you had been together."

"No," Aragorn refuted, pain etched into his every feature, "no, that is not what—"

" _Proof!_ " Legolas shouted over him. " _Proof_ in every letter written in Hildanir's hand! Every letter which stated, to the _Council_ , that you had chosen her to be your mistress." His face held so much disgust as he continued, "The man even wrote enough to let them know how _often_ you had seduced her!"

Hildanir gaped at him, "I would _never_ —"

"It is a lie!" Aragorn cried, his face earnest, pleading. He tried to wrap his mind around the depth of this plot and failed. "I would _never…_ I would _die_ before I would—"

"But above all this there is _more_ of the'proof' you request!" Legolas continued, staring hard at him. "To think I had known you. We would never have believed all of these coincidences as you would wish us to believe they were, but there was more." Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out a small metal band and threw it towards the man's chest. Aragorn just caught it before it hit the floor, and his heart once again bottomed out in his chest. " _There_ is proof. Leaving your ring with Nardur when you journeyed was an excellent plan," he sneered. "Then, you would have no reminder on your hand as you held the _whore_ you had chosen; nothing to remind you of your infidelity! Oh how you have _wronged_ the fairest of the fair, the embodiment of Lúthien in our age!" Furious tears filled Legolas's eyes. " _How you have wronged her, you lying adulterer!_ "

Aragorn stared, astounded at the ring; it was nearly an exact replica of the one he wore except that it would never have fit his large hands. All the _lies_! All the schemes! For such foolishness! It broke his heart. He tried to lift his head, tears in his eyes. "Legolas," he said, his words a groan, "I _swear_ —"

"Worst of all," Legolas said, his voice dropping to a menacing murmur, "is something you cannot deny, because I know, _I know_ that there is no way to hide anything through a bond so deep. The irrefutable proof of your betrayal came worst of all from the Evenstar herself."

 _No…no, my Lord, no! Please, I beg you!_

"Enguina found her," he raged out quietly, his hands balled into fists, his words meant to punish and wound, "as she was tearing out her hair, clawing at her skin, sobbing on the floor in _your_ home, unable to even think or speak except to say the unthinkable: that the one who loved and adored her and swore to cherish her everyday of her life had betrayed her, that she had _felt_ you do it. It _is_ irrefutable proof, and may Ilúvatar _curse_ you forever for what you have done to her."

This, above all the plotting and the scheming of Nardur, was too much. All this time he had been running home, he had hoped against all hope that she had somehow made it through the ordeal unscathed, that she had not known, that he could tell her himself what had happened upon his arrival. But his worst fears were realized—she had told him that she could live without everything else…except him. And now…even _he_ had betrayed her.

He bowed his head under the great weight of it all and wept, the endless agony she must have suffered sweeping over him, the fake ring clenched in his fist and his forehead pressed to it as he moaned her name over and over, groaning as though he held up the world. " _Oh Ilúvatar, have you no mercy?! Oh, why? Why! Oh, my beloved!_ " He cried out the words. " _Oh save us, my god! Spare her, please! Oh, it cannot be true!_ "

Moments passed in silence, Aragorn's cries the only sound within the stable; even the horses who had been arguing were quiet. Legolas stood, his jaw set, unmoved by the sobbing man but moved by the memory of Arwen's pain. Hildanir simply stood in shock, but Mennev finally stepped forward, reaching for Aragorn's shoulder. The man rolled it, unable to stand the comfort—there was none—and threw out his arm, keeping the man at bay as he returned to his position. Aragorn fell back, sitting on the ground, his hip struggling to support his weight as he tried to regain his self-control. He looked down at the ring in his now open hand.

" _Oh, Legolas_ ," he groaned, and the elf glared at him.

"Do _not_ —"

"Oh, Legolas," Aragorn said again, as if he had not even heard him, and this time he lifted his head to look at him, his face wet with his tears, "if only this ring were mine." He let it slide from his hand with a clatter to the cobblestones, and stretched out the fingers on the trembling left hand that bore his wedding ring. "From the moment she placed it there, I have never removed it. Not once; not for anything. But…for you to see…just for a moment…" He lifted his eyes to Hildanir. "Hildanir, help me…"

Aragorn did not have the strength in his right hand to remove the ring, but Hildanir worked to take it from his finger. Then, he walked it to Legolas and placed it in his hand. The elf could do nothing but look at it of course. He had stared at the ring Nardur had given him, turning it over and over in his fingers more times than he could count; he _knew_ that ring.

It was not this one.

Yes, the inscription was the same, but it was sized differently, and the script was different, and the shapes formed within the band were slightly different and…could it be any clearer? The ring was _worn_ from ten years of wearing the silver band. For the first time since he had been so certain that Aragorn was guilty, confusion and dread seeped into Legolas's heart.

"But…" he said, his voice cracking. He had not known what he was going to say, where the sentence had been going. That was all that would come out.

"Councilman Nardur," Aragorn began softly, his voice broken, "orchestrated an elaborate scheme, and I am at the heart of it." His words were unsteady and painful, and with great apprehension did they fall on Legolas's ears. "He sent a man with my guard, Ethring, in order to…in order to ensure that…that she and I would have a union…have a…" He could not continue, the tale making him so dizzy he could have been sick there on the floor. He reached up to hold his head in his hand as Hildanir took over the tale.

"A child," Hildanir stated as Legolas continued to stare at the ring. "My uncle plotted with Ethring and gave him orders to nearly poison the King and Lady Erumar with herbs that would make them seduce one another." He had to tell the story so Aragorn would not have to. "Nardur chose the Lady because she _was_ so similar to the Queen; the plan was that the Evenstar would go into seclusion and return with the Lady Erumar's son as _her_ child. What…" He swallowed hard and Legolas looked up at him, his gaze hard. "Both of them were drugged and forced to seduce each other. What the Lady felt from my Lord…it was not real. It was an accident, the two of them unknowingly and unwittingly set upon each other."

"It was _her_ touch," Aragorn whispered brokenly, suddenly realizing. "It was Arwen's touch that brought me back to myself that night, stopped me from doing everything you have accused me of tonight."

"Aye," Mennev said, crossing his arms, "'tis true, Prince. Every word."

Legolas's eyes slowly closed, his jaw still set as he covered his face with both hands, Aragorn's ring dropping and rolling onto the floor before him. As Hildanir moved to pick it up, everything fell into place in Legolas's mind: Aragorn _had_ been touching Erumar at the time when Arwen had reached out to him, because he had been drugged, she would never have known that what she was feeling was not real. Arwen had lost her _mind_ over the loss of Aragorn's love…and it had all been a deception, a horrible scheme laid out by one terrible man. And he, convinced by a ring that was an elaborate fake, believed that his friend had betrayed her and had allowed her to leave Minas Tirith…essentially, to die.

" _Nonononononono_ ," Legolas moaned, his hands beginning to tremble as the full reality of this situation tumbled down upon him. He crossed the few feet to Aragorn and dropped to his knees before him, reaching out to grip his shoulders so hard. " _I have wronged you!_ " he cried out, his eyes full of horror and grief in his features. "The words I have spoken! My tongue should be torn from my mouth so that I may never speak such terrible words again! I should have trusted you; I should have remembered who you were—should have remembered all that you had done for her, for us. I should have _seen_ that when Nardur spoke he was playing us, that the ring was not yours, that his goal was to hurt and maim! I should have remembered your wedding!" He cast his eyes to the heavens. "Oh, may Ilúvatar punish me for all the ways I have wronged you!"

"There was too much proof," Aragorn said so softly that Legolas needed to lean in to hear him. "There was nothing else to believe."

"Your _character_!" Legolas said, hardly able to look at him. "I should have remembered _your_ _character_!"

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice full of agony.

"She is gone to Ithilien," he whispered, his eyes flooding with tears. "She and Enguina left just two weeks ago. I was to follow them in the morning; I was to keep you here so that you could never speak to her, never see her again. She was… _god, she was…so broken…_ "

Aragorn's heart broke again, and he had to bite his own hand to prevent himself from weeping aloud again. She had felt him with Erumar; she had known that he had lain with her, given himself to her—for a month. He remembered her overwhelming agony firing through his mind; he could only imagine her pain, her grief. Her words that she could never lose him; how broken she had been these past few weeks with Enguina and the child and…oh, this was too much! All that she had left in the world, reaching out to another for something she believed she could never provide him? How often had he told her that she was enough? How often had he shown her his love? But the proof was everywhere; oh how well-planned was the enemy! How much more could one soul take? _Could you not spare her this pain, Father? Please! Rescue my beloved!_ He groaned and choked back a sob before raising his head once again.

"Captain."

Mennev immediately stepped to his side. "My Lord, command me."

"Find the councilman," he said, and though his voice was soft there was steel behind it. "Bring him to me, even if in pieces."

Mennev clasped his hand to his chest and looked to Hildanir. "Remain with the King." Immediately, he left the stable.

Aragorn gave a trembling sigh full of the weight he bore and bowed his head, his body bent forward. " _Oh, dear Father…why? Why?_ " he murmured the words aloud unknowingly. " _Oh, my beloved Arwen! Protect her, shield her! Oh where is your plan—I cannot see it! Why this? Why now? We are so broken before you! I must trust you! I know you are in control, but I fear for her terribly. I know what this has done to what was left of her heart!_ " He gasped painfully. " _Please, give me time to set this right!_ "

" _God_ , forgive me," Legolas prayed as well, his sorrow all-consuming, thinking of Enguina out there alone with her. "Forgive me for doubting him; I have lost my memory of the man I knew and replaced it with the words of mocking, maniacal men. Father, do I never learn? How many times have you shown me his character and yet am I lead astray! Did I not learn at Helm's Deep? I am so ashamed that after everything we have been through together, I lost my faith in him. I…I have wronged him so grievously; I have turned my own wife against him with my poisonous words. Lord, may you cleanse my tongue."

Legolas reached out and set a hand on Aragorn's knee. "I am so sorry, my friend, my brother."

Aragorn shook his head, but could not reply, his heart still too heavy, his face pale. Hildanir crouched down beside them and took Aragorn's hand in his own, gently pressing his wedding ring back onto his finger.

"This is where this belongs," he said softly. When he lifted his head, Legolas met his eyes.

"I am sorry," the elf whispered. "I was wrong."

"Whatever letters you have seen were not written by me," he stated, but his scowl was deep. "They must have been written by my uncle for the pure purpose of making the council aware of what was happening, making it appear as though it was the King's idea along with the work of a few. He is utterly despicable; henceforth, he will be no relation of mine." Hildanir felt Aragorn's hand grip his wrist and he looked to him.

"I…need to lie down," he said, and Hildanir noticed that his hand was shaking. He still was not yet well; it would do well for them to remember that, and above that, he had received quite a beating from Legolas. Hildanir dragged a hay bale up behind him and he leaned back against it, feeling better simply from taking the weight from himself.

Legolas stared at him. "You are wounded," he said. It was a statement, but it was out of confusion. Just looking at the man now, he saw more than he had since he had walked into the stable, for he had been uncaring in acknowledging anything about him.

Just as Aragorn was about to respond, Hildanir nodded. "Terribly. After the battle was won, a lone warg and his rider attacked the King; it nearly ripped off his arm, tearing into his shoulder and chest, and the orc plunged a sword through his hip. The recovery has not been easy, and is not over yet."

"Yet you rode here?" Legolas said, shaking his head slowly, staring at Aragorn with his head lying back on the hay bale. "Dear Ilúvatar, may he save you. You are always doing things such as this…"

"Ilúvatar was the one with a hand in it," Hildanir continued. "We rode out after the…plot was carried out. We would have arrived more quickly, but there was nothing we could do when we had to stop for a week because Mennev and I could not rouse him for several days."

Legolas looked at Aragorn. "And here I was…pounding away at you. The shame I feel—"

"You always had a temper," Aragorn replied weakly, his thoughts still a hundred miles away…with Arwen and her heart.

"You should have stopped me."

"You would not listen," he stated, clearly still hurting. "But I will be all right. I need to rest for a few minutes." _Days_ would have been a more appropriate answer; it hurt to breathe. "We…will need to ride to Ithilien as quickly as we may."

"You should be headed to the Houses of _Healing_ as quickly as you may," Hildanir interjected. "Instead, you are going to get back in that saddle once again."

"Nothing else can be done," Aragorn whispered. "I must…I must reach her as soon as possible."

On this, Legolas was silent. Out of all the things that he _knew_ , he knew very well that Arwen was ready to die. He had seen her weep too many times to know that what Aragorn had allegedly done had destroyed her. Watching her claw herself to pieces and fall apart, gripping her chest, the memories tearing apart her heart… He looked at the man he had once called friend.

"Can…can you ever forgive me?" he asked softly. "I wish I could take back every terrible word I said against you. I fueled Enguina's anger with you, helped stir up old feelings of distrust and…" He shook his head. "You should never forgive me." He said the words softly as he stared down at Aragorn's hands, the wedding ring that looked so different to his eyes now. He felt such shame; how could he have ever believed his friend capable of such betrayal?

"Do not be…so hard on yourself," Aragorn murmured. "Of course I forgive you. You had no other choice. Friends we are still."

"You are in great pain," he said. "Perhaps we should take you to the Houses and have the Captain meet us there."

"They will confine me," Aragorn replied, opening his eyes. "Talf will never permit me to leave once I am through those doors, and it must be me who speaks with her…she will believe nothing if not from my lips. She will not understand the truth."

"It is too much, Aragorn," Legolas whispered, saying his name for the first time in a month. _Ilúvatar, forgive me._ "You will be no good to her if you die before you reach Ithilien."

"Will you be at my side?" he asked and Legolas reached over and clasped his hand.

"Of course," he replied. "Of course I will ride with you."

"Then I am content." He turned his head and looked at Hildanir. "And you?"

"I would be nowhere else," Hildanir stated. "Your request is my command, though I would have you well again."

"I will be whole again," Aragorn murmured, "when my beloved is in my arms once more. Help me get there, and all will be well."

"Rest until Mennev returns, my Lord."

Aragorn stared at him.

"Elessar," Hildanir corrected himself, and his King closed his eyes. He raised his head and looked to the stable hands who were still milling about. "Feed and water the horses; care for them. We will need them saddled soon, I am sure." The men went to do his bidding.

Legolas really took a good look at Aragorn then as he tried to rest. The man _had_ taken a beating, and not only at his own hands. It was clear that Aragorn had been suffering this past month beyond belief; his hair had a few more streaks of grey than Legolas would ever have expected, though he supposed that may have happened in the three years since he had seen him—but he did not think so. The man's right arm was strapped to his side; to think he had not even noticed these things when he had entered the stable! And then to have abused him so harshly…

It was not long after that when Mennev returned, a small battalion of guards with him, and two councilmen. The Captain walked over to the small gathering, and Aragorn immediately opened his eyes. Hildanir took in the look on his captain's face and frowned, concerned.

"My King," Mennev said, "I don't have any good news, I'm afraid."

"Speak, Mennev," he said, and then he noticed Noldore and Dintîr.

"Elessar, we are glad you have returned," said Noldore, crouching down to clasp his arm. "Dintîr and I knew that what we heard could not be true."

"Lies, all of it," Dintîr snarled, looking over to Hildanir as he nodded. "We should never have believed; forgive us for losing faith in you."

"What has been, has been," Aragorn said gently, "and there is naught we can do to change it. Rather, then, what is the news?" he asked, trying to stay focused. "Where is he?"

"Gone, my Lord," Mennev replied hesitantly.

"Nardur has been missing for several days, we believe," Noldore said, frowning deeply. "No one has come forward with information on him, and no one has seen him."

"My guess is," Mennev continued, "he turned tail and fled."

"Is it possible someone killed him?" Hildanir asked, his eyes dark. "And robbed us of the pleasure?"

"Peace, Hildanir," Aragorn said, and the man exhaled softly. "When was he last seen?"

Mennev nodded towards Legolas. "Someone saw him speaking with the Prince several evenings ago. That's the last time."

Legolas clasped his hands to his head in anguish. " _Ai,_ Ilúvatar! I have sealed our fates!"

"What can you mean?"

He groaned aloud. "That _bastard_! He asked me where they had gone! He seemed so surprised to discover that Arwen had traveled with Enguina. It…it could be possible that he followed _them_."

"To Ithilien?" asked Hildanir with surprise. "Why would he do such a thing _?_ I thought he wanted an heir _for_ her and the King. Lady Erumar was never intended to be Queen of Gondor, not according to Ethring. He never intended to kill her!"

"We do not know his full plan," Aragorn said softly, but Hildanir could tell that he agreed with Legolas. "Now we have no choice, and no time. We must ride out immediately and at speed."

"Would he truly kill her?" Dintîr questioned, confused. "He is not usually so forward; he has never given any sign that he despises her so much."

"Perhaps he knows that he has failed somehow, or worse, perhaps he wanted to be sure the King could not come back to her again," Noldore said. "Whatever the reason, he has gone with malicious intent."

"My uncle," Hildanir said, spitting on the floor as he crossed his arms, "is the cruelest of men. How I wish I could lay no claim to relation to him."

"It is made even more probable by the thought that he threatened my family a month or so ago as well when I confronted him on the rumors that he was spreading about you, though he claimed they were truth of course." Legolas frowned. "We had a…an altercation…near the Embrasure—"

"Where you nearly threw him from the ramparts," added Dintîr with a snort. "Yes, a _small_ altercation."

"Perhaps I should have," he said softly. "We would not be here at this moment."

"Have the groomsmen prepare the horses," Aragorn said. "Help me to my feet, please, Mennev," he added, who immediately did as he was asked. Aragorn removed weight from his injured hip and sighed as the two councilmen stared.

"You are _wounded_ , Elessar!" exclaimed Noldore.

"I noticed," Aragorn replied dryly. "There is nothing I can do to change that, and I can do nothing but ride to her. Legolas, you should hurry, get whatever you need. We must leave quickly." The elf nodded and went out to do exactly as he said.

"We're riding with you," Mennev stated, crossing his arms. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, by order of King Thranduil."

"And I am already riding with you," Hildanir affirmed.

"I can go nowhere without my right and left hands," Aragorn said with a half-smile and a nod. "I would have it no other way."

"Elessar," added Noldore, "be careful against Nardur. You know that in his heart, he believes that what he is doing is for the glory of Gondor. All can be sacrificed in order for the end to be accomplished."

"Taking the life of the Queen is not for the glory of Gondor," growled Hildanir, his hands balling into fists. Mennev frowned.

"No," replied Noldore, "but it would preserve his goal: an heir of some kind. He believes that Gondor must have an heir to be whole for the years to come, and it is clear he does not care who he sacrifices in the process. It does not matter who bears the heir as long as it is by Aragorn's blood."

"Why is it," Hildanir said angrily, "that everyone seems to think a child born of the King will solve every problem and right every wrong? Did no one learn with Elendil and Isildur?"

"It is precisely the reason why they think it matters," sighed Noldore. "It matters because it was foretold that an heir of Isildur would reclaim the throne in nobility and honor; that has happened. The people, the council, well… _everyone_ who has any knowledge or who has heard the story believes the same—that the only thing that will continue this reign of peace, keep the forces of evil at bay, is an heir of the House of Telcontar."

Hildanir frowned and added softly. "It seems…so cruel. To punish someone because of their lineage, because of expectations." No one said a word, though it seemed everyone was in agreement.

By the time the groomsmen returned with the horses, Legolas had also made his way back to the stable. As they were taking their reins, Noldore touched Aragorn's arm.

"Elessar, we will continue to look for any signs of Nardur here."

"And we will question every member of the Council so that we may find out who else was involved with this treachery," Dintîr added, scowling.

"I think," Aragorn replied softly, "that Nardur was playing this one very close to his chest. I doubt you will find anyone who knew about it, or even a small piece of it. But seek them out. We will send word as soon as we may. And…if you would make sure that…the people know the truth…"

"From the oldest to the youngest, all will know," Noldore added. "May Eru give all of you speed and his grace as he leads you onward. I must ask, my Lord, do you know when you might return?"

Aragorn stared at him and shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot answer. I do not know what the coming days will bring."

"Once we arrive in Ithilien," Hildanir said softly, "no matter what happens, I think the King will need to rest and heal."

"We will send word," Legolas repeated for Aragorn. "As soon as we may."

"Understood."

"Watch over the people, Noldore, Dintîr," Aragorn said as he settled into the saddle with some difficulty, his hip paining him terribly even as he ignored it. The wound was healed over, but his body…it remained quite the opposite. "Be safe."

"May you find him quickly," Dintîr added. "May you all return to us healed."

And with that, the four of them rode out into the night. There would be no rest for the weary.


	50. Chapter 50

Author's Note: The song later in this chapter is not owned or written by me. It is "Masterpiece," by Sandi Patty.

* * *

Legolas stared out into the setting sun as they rode quietly along. Another day gone, another day lost. This was taking far, _far_ too long. For the last three days they had been riding towards Ithilien, and by morning they would still be nearly a full day's ride from his home. They should be there by the morning after, as it had been nearly a five day ride. They should have been able to move much more quickly, but Aragorn was not well enough to ride all day and all night; he was forcing himself as it was. It was his drive and desire to reach Arwen that still had them in the saddle this evening, but Legolas was worried, as were Hildanir and Mennev who continuously glanced at Aragorn to be sure he remained upright. They need not have worried, as Legolas was doing the same.

"Thinking?" he heard Aragorn ask softly. It was the first time he had spoken in over an hour.

"Worrying," Legolas said, turning to look at him.

"It does us no good," he whispered tiredly, closing his eyes. "There is nothing we can do."

"Ilúvatar is in control," Legolas replied, and the man sighed.

"I know he is, but it has grown increasingly difficult to trust him in the face of all this adversity," Aragorn added. "I am…struggling to remember it when I see how few miles we have covered and how many more we have yet to go."

There was nothing Legolas could say to that; he had obviously been thinking it himself. Instead, he changed the subject. "My mind keeps going to what Enguina and Arwen are doing right now. As well as all of the complete chaos of this scheme of Nardur, my wife is nearly ready to bear a child into the world, which is also driving me to distraction."

Aragorn watched the way his jaw set, this time out of nervous anxiety. "It must have been…very hard for you to allow her to journey to Ithilien without you. After all that had happened before—"

"Guin…was very persuasive," he sighed. "She convinced me that they would walk the whole way and that they would be perfectly safe. And she was with your wife, so she was not alone. We…decided together that it would be best if Arwen did not remain in Minas Tirith."

There was a pause. "Why did you remain behind?"

Legolas hesitated and then looked directly at him. "I was to stop you from going after us to Ithilien if you came; I intended to thrash you within an inch of your life."

"I noticed."

Legolas winced as he eyed one particular bruise on the man's face where a fist had connected rather harshly. He could not imagine what the rest of the man's body looked like. "There are moments when I look at you and I can think of nothing but my terrible anger. Aragorn, I am so grievously sorry."

"I know you are. We cannot change the past, Legolas," he reminded the elf. "I…thought you were going to kill me…at least three times."

Legolas looked down at his saddle. "I wanted to…for what you had done to her…for what she felt for you all this time that you had destroyed. You must understand, Aragorn—"

"I do," he interrupted quietly. "And I deserved every moment of the beating you provided."

"No," Legolas said firmly. "What happened, according to Hildanir, was not your doing."

He sighed. "Your father said that, though…I am less certain."

"My _father_?" Legolas asked with surprise. "What did my father have to do with this?"

"He was there, at the end," Aragorn answered. "He will more than likely be furious with me, as I left without a word to him, except to ask him to take control of the rebuilding of the Easterlings. It was wrong, I know, but he would have tried to prevent me from leaving, and there was nothing on earth that could have prevented me." He looked over at his friend with sorrowful eyes. "They were _my_ hands, Legolas…not someone else's that were upon her. The drug was _so_ strong…we could not fight it. And she had been given nearly four doses of it; she was so very ill."

Legolas frowned deeply. "Did…did _she_ know what was happening? Did you?"

"I… _knew_ it was wrong…somewhere in my heart," he whispered, closing his eyes with the pain of the memory, "but there was nothing I could do. I could not stop my hands, my eyes…my _desire_. It was the most awful thing I have ever done. Even though I did not do it because I had a choice, you were right, your words." He swallowed hard. "I _did_ betray Arwen. _I betrayed her_. _I am an adulterer._ "

"No, Aragorn, I was _wrong_. I did not know what had happened," he forcefully denied. "I was wrong to call Erumar names and disown her so. _I_ was wrong. You may have touched her, but you did not do it because you wanted to."

"The drug made me want to," he said. "The drug made me want her more than anything in the world, and she…she said that she could give me everything that I had ever wanted." Legolas watched him swallow again, and then he continued bitterly, "That she would give me a child." He had to swallow again, the lump in his throat making it so tight he could barely speak. " _Curse_ Nardur," he groaned. "Curse _all_ of them! How could they do this to us? How _could_ they?" Legolas had no answer, and his heart broke for them, sorrow filling him as he remembered Arwen, more distraught even than the man before him. " _Oh, my Lord_ ," Aragorn whispered, bowing his head, " _save her, please!_ " The words poured out of him, and then he lifted his head once again. "Oh, Legolas, I would have Arwen over a thousand children of my own blood!"

He was so full of grief, Legolas hurt for him, hurt for what had been done to them, and what _he_ had been a part of as well. "I know," he replied, his voice soft. " _I know you would._ "

"When I told her that she would always be enough, I meant it! If she is gone, how could I _live_ , knowing that it was because of _this_ that she had died!?"

"I wish I had known," Legolas said suddenly. "I wish I had been sure in your character, that I had never doubted you, but she _felt_ you, Aragorn. She _felt_ what had happened and it sealed everything. Nardur had not known, _could_ not have known about that. What happened to her because of what she felt…he had no idea it would affect her so."

Aragorn was silent, his posture bent, weighed down by the tragedy that had become his marriage. Then, he finally spoke. "How…how _was_ she, Legolas? How—"

"Do not, Aragorn," he cautioned, picturing her in his mind. Looking back, he dreaded every moment of the description he had provided of her when he had been trying desperately to wound the man. "Do not go down that path…"

"I cannot _feel_ her," he whispered, and Legolas stared at him.

"What…what do you mean? The connection…?"

"It is _closed_ somehow," he continued. "I cannot touch her, not even a whisper of breath do I hear. It is as though she is…she is…" He could hardly say the word, but Legolas understood, nodding. "It has been a month and a half since I have felt any emotion, and the last was _terrible_ agony, grief. It was what made me ride out that night from the North, even when I could hardly sit upright. I cannot…I can barely describe what it is like…"

Legolas stared at him, disbelief cutting through him. He could not imagine, now that he had such a connection with Enguina, losing that connection. It _would_ be so quiet, so lonely. Without her…he shuddered. "I am…I am so sorry, Aragorn," he said gently.

"How was she?" he asked again.

Legolas shook his head, an awful feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. "Aragorn…I should not…"

"Please."

"She was beside herself with grief," he said, shaking his head again. "Do not do this to yourself. It is too much, Aragorn…"

"Tell me, Legolas," he said seriously. "I should bear every moment of this burden. It was I who left her here, even knowing what she had been going through before I left, even after I knew that Nardur and several other men of the Council had been spreading rumors. It was I who did all that—"

"Enguina said that you had no choice," Legolas denied. "Even Arwen said the same."

"I should not have gone…or at the very least she should have come." Aragorn sighed. "I cannot change what has past, can I?"

"No, I am afraid we cannot," Legolas said with regret, still thinking of himself striking his friend.

"May Ilúvatar bless you both for being here for her. I praise him for that…that you had not returned before it happened, that she was not alone…that she at least had someone to care for her."

"I was grateful Enguina found her," he added. "And I was so angry with you I could hardly think. I fueled Enguina's horror at you, even though both of us tried to deny it with all our hearts until Arwen told us that she had felt you. Then there was no denying—only a decision to never speak your name again. How I wish I could take back words that I had said then for I hurt you so much by them."

Aragorn shook his head. "What you said in anger is already forgotten."

"No," he denied again. "It is not forgotten, because you are feeling it still, still calling _yourself_ by the word. And it was wrong of me to say it. But I…the whole time I had thought you had done this terrible thing, I kept thinking of the man I had known through those many years, of the woman I had known. At one time, she would have been able to survive something like this, but no…she cannot live in a world without your love; there was nothing in her head except you. And you…I remembered each one of those nights that I watched you sing to her from the treetops, looking towards the moon and stars…it was all I could think of when I thought of how wretched you were for betraying her. And yet none of it was your fault!"

"Do you remember," Aragorn asked him softly, "the night of the party before your wedding, in that tavern, and the woman who had been paid to be yours for the night?"

Legolas blushed terribly at the memory. "Yes."

"You told me that you felt ashamed about what had happened, that you had betrayed Enguina's trust even though you had done nothing."

"Yes."

"Then you must understand, Legolas," he pleaded. "You must understand that though you did not touch this woman but to get her away from you, I touched Erumar _willingly_ under the power of the drug, and her, me. I _am_ guilty! We were unclothed, Legolas…a few more minutes and it would have been…it would have been done. We would have lain together and been unable to stop." His voice was full of the horror he felt.

"I…I do not…know what to say."

"There _is_ nothing to say," Aragorn replied. "It was done, my friend. But I tell you the truth because I am burdened by it and by my grief over her."

"It is why you remain in that saddle though you are about to fall out of it," he reached over and steadied him. "You have not appeared well to me in the last few hours."

"My…right leg is very weak," he replied. "It is difficult to keep my balance."

"We need to halt."

"We will not, Legolas," he said sternly. "I will tie myself to Brego before I will stop before nightfall. I will fight the exhaustion. I _will_." Legolas watched him set his jaw. "There is nothing else but this! Ilúvatar will have to sustain me for now."

"You are…completely mad, sometimes," Legolas told him. "If you die before reaching my home, you will be unable to save Arwen."

"I am _weak_ , Legolas, not dying," Aragorn said, shooting him a withering look. "I can make it another two hours at least."

"As you wish," the elf sighed.

"Do not pretend you do not wish you could run the whole way there," he added. "I wish it, too. Either way, we should increase our pace—"

"No, definitely not. I will handle the riding, but I will not allow you to exhaust yourself further. Two hours and then a halt for the night."

"Yes, Prince Legolas," came Mennev's voice from behind. "We'll follow your command."

"My men are listening to you now," Aragorn sighed, and Legolas smiled for the first time since the last time he had kissed Enguina.

"There is no one better, at the moment. At least I have a clear head, even if I am seriously concerned about both of them, though for entirely different reasons."

Aragorn nodded, and Legolas could see the beginnings of a smile form. "Enguina will carry until full term. Do not worry over her."

"She promised me," he said, looking directly into Aragorn's eyes. "She promised me that she would _not_ go into labor in the woods."

"I should be honest and say that she cannot truly control that," Aragorn said gently, "but I am sure we will be there before the babe is born. I…I never did get to tell you how wonderful it was to find out that you were having a child. Blessings on the baby and upon both of you, Legolas. I am so thankful you have both been so blessed."

Legolas smiled, but it was with a touch of melancholy. "I know you are happy for us, but I cannot help but think that—"

Aragorn dropped Brego's reins and reached out to grasp Legolas's forearm with his good hand. "Listen to me, and listen well. I have had enough sorrow to last me the rest of my days, Legolas. I am done with it! When I say that I am happy for you, I _mean_ it. There is no jealousy, no regret, nothing but joy. If Arwen and I survive this…I am determined that I am going to live in joy alone with what I love…and I will not allow this worry about tomorrow to control us. Never again."

Legolas nodded, and Aragorn released him. "Thank you," he said gently, and once again, he found himself believing the man, trusting him. He was so grateful that things were beginning to come back to the way they had been. Even though they were each in turmoil, they had to keep their faith, and Legolas was ever grateful that when times were in turmoil, Aragorn was the most steadfast man he knew. He clung to that hope, and continued, as Aragorn clearly was, to pray for the safety of their loved ones.

* * *

 _Thirteen days. Lord, it has been thirteen days in this house with her, and still no change? Look at her! Forcing her food around the plate to appear as though she has eaten even a bite! Ilúvatar, is there nothing that you will do for her? Is there no healing that you will bring? I sit and watch her failing, day after day. Curse him! Curse Aragorn and his betrayal!_

It had been exactly thirteen days since they had arrived in Ithilien and Enguina had done everything she could think of to keep her friend moving and active. They had been picking vegetables, cleaning the house, tending the horses, preparing for the baby, walking the fields and the nearby creek…the list was _endless._ Not one of these things was bringing any change to the heart of her friend. In fact, if anything, she was growing worse by the day. Enguina chewed on the end of a nail as she watched her and discovered she would not hesitate to declare her worse by the hour. Every activity Arwen performed was by rote or at the very most, the barest minimum. She had almost nothing to contribute, and it would have angered Enguina if she thought Arwen could have helped it at all. But there was nothing she could do; her closest friend was already doing the best she could.

At some of the strangest moments, Arwen's hands would suddenly go weak and she would drop whatever she was holding. Sometimes, her shoulders or her fingers would begin to tremble, sometimes all of her. Enguina would think they were gaily speaking of something, but then turn and find tears on her face that she did not expect, that came for no reason at all it would seem; Enguina thought it might be another memory plaguing her. She would be speaking at one moment, and the next, completely unable to speak. She would be walking and suddenly, her legs would give out and she would drop to her knees, clutching her chest and rocking as though that would bring her some comfort. Her spirit was so crushed that she hardly had the strength to stand up, lift her head. Her body was seriously weakening; she had so little to eat, though she did try sometimes when Enguina pleaded with her. Arwen was frighteningly thin now; gaunt might be a better word. Enguina felt as though soon she might see through her like a wraith.

Speaking of Aragorn was impossible, and she felt guilt whenever she spoke of Legolas and missing him or whenever she talked of the child and the birth, which was coming fast and closing in on her. Arwen had encouraged her as much as she could, attempting to smile and nod, comforting her anxiety a bit. It had soothed both of them at those times so that Arwen did not think of her own pain; she was an excellent listener, but Enguina could not speak of the birth all day. Those were the moments when Enguina knew enough not to be offended by the lack of response she received. Arwen was simply incapable of such things.

And all of this led to simply one _more_ night of them sitting across from one another, Enguina eating the dinner meal that Arwen had cooked tonight as she herself simply moved her food from one side of the plate to the other. Her portion had been tiny anyway, but not a single piece of it made it into her mouth. Arwen, staring downwards as her hand randomly slid the food back and forth and back and forth across the plate, did not even notice Enguina watching her silently. The fork vibrated on its own; Enguina could see Arwen's fingers shaking. Her arm was across her chest, but was not gripping as tightly as it had been earlier in the day. Oh, she was so heartsick over her.

How, _how_ could she stop this? She had been praying all day; not as though she had not been praying every day before that, but just that Ilúvatar would _move!_ Arwen had to come to terms with this! She _had_ to! Otherwise…

Without warning, Enguina dropped her fork with a clatter at the edge of her plate, her eyes tightly closed as she tried desperately to prevent the tears. She covered her mouth, beginning to cry softly into her hands, unable to hold back any longer. She fought back a sob, and that sound made Arwen's head come up and her eyes open. Tears began rolling down her face that she could not stop as she kept her hands pressed to her mouth, attempting to control the sounds of her sobs.

"Enguina?" Arwen asked, concern altering her features. "What is the matter?"

Sobs choked out of her as she shook her head. "Forgive me!" she cried out in a broken voice. " _Ilúvatar,_ _forgive me_!"

Arwen stared at her in shock. "What? Why? What has happened? Are you all right?"

" _I cannot do this!_ " she cried out. " _I cannot do it anymore!_ "

"Do what, Enguina?" she asked, dropping the fork and reaching across the table toward her with one hand to touch her arm. "What is the matter?"

Arwen's voice, so soft, so concerned, made her want to scream aloud. She yanked her arm away and was suddenly on her feet turning, putting some distance between them. "I cannot pretend anymore!" she stated, her voice a bit more clear as she rubbed her face with a hand. "I cannot pretend that everything is fine."

Arwen wanted to ask her what she meant, but she already knew; she could not act as though she did not know what Enguina was talking about. She hesitated instead, and that hesitation made Enguina turn back to meet her eyes.

"I thought that I could do this, but I cannot. My heart will not let me look on you and not see what has happened to you in these past few weeks." Arwen's eyes fell from hers and Enguina watched as her arms encircled her chest. "Please, do not do that!" she cried, but Arwen did not stop it. In fact, Enguina half-expected the rocking to start right after that, but instead, Arwen's eyes fluttered closed, her lower lip slipping between her teeth. Enguina gripped the back of her own chair, staring at her.

"I have been _lying_ to myself," she whispered brokenly, and she wiped her face again even though her tears kept coming. "I told myself that you could be better, that coming out here would help you! Now, I see that it has done _nothing!_ It was _useless_."

"Enguina…" Arwen whispered, but she did not finish. What could she say? She simply had no breath to breathe; the air burned in her throat.

"I cannot bear to see you this way, watching you _do_ this to yourself! You are wasting away beneath my very eyes, Arwen! How can I _live_ like that? You eat _nothing_ , you barely sleep—your very existence has been taken from— _god,_ _you are not even breathing_!"

The last words were as a screech as she reached across the table and grabbed her arm, shaking her hard. Arwen gasped for air, holding herself even more strongly; the rocking began, her eyes tightly closed now. _No, I cannot, Enguina! Can you not see that I cannot stop it? Oh, do not make me think of him! No, no, not here! Not now! Please, please…god, rescue me from these memories! May I fall down dead right here!_

"I cannot bear it! You frighten me! You have to hold yourself together to breathe!" Enguina cried as her friend began trembling violently. "I cannot bear it!" She knew she was repeating herself, but it was true. "I cannot watch you suffer like this!"

It was a struggle for Arwen to meet her eyes, and when she did there were tears in hers. "Enguina," she whispered, her voice strangling out in pain, "I am…I am lost in the dark. How can I—"

" _Pray_ Arwen!" she cried, scrambling around the table to grasp her friend's arms, her fingers digging into her flesh in her desperation. "Pray that Ilúvatar will heal you, that he will take away this pain! It is _killing_ me to see you this way!"

" _I prayed_ ," Arwen cried, staring into her face, a throbbing pain growing in her mind. "He has not answered; he _cannot_ answer. It is too late… _oh_ , _too late_." _It is over, Enguina! Can you not see?_

"Too _late_?" Enguina's voice screeched out. "It _cannot_ be too late! You have always told me— _always_ —that there is always—"

" _There is none!_ " Arwen wailed and turned her face away from Enguina's, her breath freezing in her chest again and it took her a minute to finally gasp. " _None…none…no hope…none at all…_ " Without him there was nothing; she could not survive! She was muttering the words through tears, the agony of loss consuming her all over again.

"Find a way to live without him!" Enguina cried, shaking her, and her friend's pitiful eyes fixed on hers. "There must be a way! I cannot bear to watch you do this! Every day, every moment you are fighting this battle and you are losing; you fall to your knees beneath its weight! Just _forget_ him! _Forget him and live again_!"

The memories took over. Flashes of him: standing beneath the trees of Lórien, stroking his face in the reading room in Imladris, his hands in her hair as she sat in his lap on the balcony with her arms around his neck and her lips pressed to his. Each gasping breath she took was a struggle. _Forget_ him? Impossible! Each thought of him was like a drug that caressed her soul and then stabbed her in the back in the same instant. She felt as though someone had taken a knife and plunged it into her, twisting and turning it every which way. Twisting and turning, twisting and turning—

 _Oh…please! Ilúvatar, a way out…a way out of this pain! Please, please, please!_

Arwen's hand came away from her breast and fell with a clatter on the table, knocking over the water left in her cup. Her fingers fumbled for the pointed object she _knew_ had been there, near the plate. _Get it…get it…bring it to your heart, your head…make it stop, make the memories end!_ Anything, _anything_ to make it all go away…

Enguina's hand _slammed_ down onto hers on the table, snatching her wrist violently and shaking the knife out of her hand. " _What are you doing?!_ " she screamed, all of it simply too much. " _How could you?! How could you even—_ "

Instead of reaching out and striking her best friend as she wanted to, she snatched the knife from the table and flung it across the room, listening to it smash something breakable. She could not care. She _knew_ ; she knew _exactly_ what her friend had been planning to do with that knife, and it was too much to bear. Holding Arwen's wrist in her hand, she got down on her knees beside her chair, forcing her to turn towards her. "Oh my heavens," she sobbed, "Arwen, can you not see yourself? Is that what you _want_?"

 _Yes!_ Yes, there was nothing more Arwen wanted than an _end, a way out!_ She could not answer, her head bowed in pain, unable to function at the moment, every thought bent on getting rid of the memories in her head, but also trying desperately not to listen to the voice that was telling her to find the fork on the table that would work just as well.

Enguina shook her and cried out, " _Can I say nothing that will reach your heart_?!"

" _What heart?_ " she choked out, her voice so raw that Enguina felt her hair stand on end. "My heart is…my _heart has been torn from my chest and set aflame before the pits of Morgoth._ " She was moaning now, consumed by her pain. " _I have no words of comfort for you._ "

Enguina shook her again, but this time not so violently. "Oh, why, _why_ , Arwen! Why did he do this terrible thing? Why would he sacrifice what he felt for you, how much he loved you! He _said_ he loved you!" she cried out, but these were tears of anger now, redirected. "He is the _worst_ kind of man! I _knew_ it! I _knew_ he would betray you and hurt you somehow, from the first! _All of them are the same!_ Curse the race of men! Curse _him_ for what he has done to you! He's a petty, selfish creature who thinks only of himself. Their love is so _fleeting_! It matters so little to them! To them ten years is forever, but to us ten years is a blink! Where is his patience? Why could he not be steadfast!? Ilúvatar, I _hate_ him! For what he has done to your heart, to you, what he has made you do to yourself in your grief, he deserves…he deserves…" her breath caught in her own sorrow as she stared at the shell her friend had become, "he deserves the worst punishment imaginable for a living thing. May Ilúvatar curse him forever!"

The last words were whispered, but they were fierce, and they had the same effect as if they had been shouted. Arwen groaned aloud, lowering her head and weeping, control out of the question. Enguina's slandering of him was too much to bear; deep in her heart, she knew that her friend was lashing out because she was frustrated that there was nothing she could do. But even had Arwen _wanted_ to be angry with him, she could not—she loved him too much, and she had already convinced herself months ago that this would be what was needed. She had known the outcome; now it was only a matter of time. She could not respond to Enguina's words. All she could do was slowly lower her forehead to the table, her one arm pressed tightly to her chest as her weeping over him continued.

" _Arwen_ …Arwen, please…" Enguina begged, dragging herself to her feet to pull a chair beside her so she could sit down, get off her feet, laying a hand on Arwen's back. "Please, I want to help you! I see you each day and I die inside watching you do this to yourself. There _must_ be a way to survive this. It has to _heal…_ it has to get better… _it must_. There must be peace, _hope_ , somewhere! Will you not let me help you find it?

"Ilúvatar!" she cried out over Arwen. "You must help her! Father, where are you in this darkness? Let her not feel alone! Let her feel your hand of mercy, of healing; may she feel the only lasting peace that comes from this life— _your_ peace! Remind her, please, of all that she has to live for, and guide her from the darkness into light! Heal her heart, Father! _Restore_ her in the midst of all of this chaos and hurt; even when we do not see you, we know you are with us! Please, _Ilúvatar_ , _I beg you!_ "

* * *

It was early morning, and Enguina was wide awake and lying on Legolas's side of the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. She was uncomfortable—no position was working for her tonight or any night recently; she only slept well when she was in his arms. She only slept for an hour or so and then woke to roll or move or…whatever it took. She had been staring at the ceiling, but now she simply buried her head into his pillow. Sadness weighed on her heart this morning, and she reached out to Ilúvatar to lift it. Her heart dwelt on Arwen and their brief exchange of words last night and her praying over her at the table the night before. She felt terribly guilty about what she had said about Aragorn, but she had meant every word. He had been standing on a pedestal in her mind of 'I-can-do-no-wrong' long enough, one similar to the one she held Legolas on, but all she had been feeling this past month was betrayed. He had fallen _so_ far from that pedestal!

She sat up, letting her legs hang from the side of the bed as she sighed and rested her hand on her womb. Praying that Legolas would arrive soon, she felt the baby press against her with an elbow or a knee—he really had nowhere to go at this point. As she felt the child, she thought about the series of events from the evening before, the words that had been spoken…Arwen trying to kill herself. Vaguely, she wondered if the anger, the depression she had been immediately feeling during the incident was the same as Arwen had felt when _she_ had tried to hurl herself from the Embrasure three years ago. She could not know, but her emotions were running so high these days she simply could not handle another close call such as that. Oh, she knew Arwen would have done it as well…if she had not been there at that moment, she would have done it. Her friend would have been no more. The whole of it was disgusting; was this entire visit a lie? A lie to herself? She had tried increasingly more challenging methods to get Arwen to forget or to redirect, but nothing helped. She tried not to lose hope, but this situation seemed so completely hopeless that she did not see much choice.

She dragged herself from the bed and dressed for the day, wrapping herself in a shawl even though she did not need it; a thin coating of snow was upon the ground once again—that did not bode well for the winter they would have this year. She then moved quietly, almost stealthily down the hall, not wanting to disturb Arwen, but she could not help but stop at her room. She stared at the closed door, debating whether to open it or not. Arwen had been devoid of all hope last night; after the incident and the ensuing discussion about Aragorn's betrayal, she was barely able to function. She _had_ given up. But Enguina was not about to allow her to kill herself. Oh no, as wrong, wrong, wrong as it was, she had locked Arwen in the guestroom last night. Oh, it was not _right_! She felt terribly guilty that she should be doing this to her dearest friend! But it _had_ to be done; she could not allow her to reach objects that would injure herself and locking her in seemed like the best idea. The moment before she had locked the door, Arwen had not even lifted her head to look at her; she had simply stood in the middle of the room with her head hanging, her shoulders slumped, as she hung onto the bed post, holding herself upright. Arwen had not even had the energy to be angry with her, and that had upset Enguina more than anything else. She had hoped for anger, for _something…_

She quietly unlocked the door and peeked carefully inside. There was no movement—and the bed was made. A great sense of urgency and fear came over her as she stepped into the room, her eyes scanning everywhere for her friend. As she entered, she was able to see the floor in front of the bed and there she found Arwen, lying on the rug as far from the bed as possible, her back to Enguina, her body pressed to the wall. Arwen was clearly spending her nights on the floor, which made Enguina think about the fact that her dearest friend could not lie in a bed, not even one that was not her own, without thinking of _him_. Tears came to her eyes as she watched her trembling upon the floor, but at least she was sleeping, and she moved forward quietly again and covered her with a blanket. She did not want to wake her, but she wanted to be sure she was warm enough. Then she backed out of the room, debating whether or not to lock her friend in. She left it go; she would be just outside in the garden.

Looking down on her made Enguina cringe. No, she did not want to wake her. It might have been wrong, but she simply could not stomach dealing with Arwen's pain just now. She needed a respite, time alone to think, to pray, to take time to breathe. She was so very sad, and the sorrow that came from Arwen smothered her. She simply needed time to be alone. Closing the door, she then turned and walked the rest of the way to the kitchen, where she began a fire for tea. When it was brewed, she took a cup and walked out into the brisk air. It was a beautiful morning.

She strolled out along the stepping stones to the little garden that Legolas had added and made her way through the bit of snow to the bench that stood there. The sun was still rising over the trees, and she breathed deeply, enjoying every moment of the stillness as she took in the scent of the morning, the little flakes that were coming down, and the earthy smell of the woods. She sat down slowly and tilted her face toward heaven, laying her cup aside and her hands upon her womb.

"Even though there is snow upon the ground this morning, Father, I see what a beautiful morning you have made. I do not know what you wish of me today, or what you have planned, but I know that this day, just as every day that has come before, you will draw me close to your heart. I seek your face, Father; I know you are with me every moment. You see my heart; you know my thoughts." She breathed out, slow and long. "My heart rests heavily on my dearest friend. I know how much she is hurting. She has lost a part of herself that she cannot seem to find again. Please, Father, find a way to help her let go that does not allow her to forfeit her life! I love her too much, Lord, to see her die over such a man as him. Help her to let go!

"Lord, what is my purpose in all of this?" she asked, sighing. "How can I care for Arwen when she pushes me away and she cannot feel anything but the terrible pain of abandonment and betrayal? Aragorn's turning away has torn her heart to pieces. How, Father… _how_ can I help her? How can I show her that there is more to live for than only him? Help me to be understanding, but also firm, tendered with patience. I cannot allow her to continue to do this to herself." She tightened her fingers together, clasping her hands. "Looking at her this morning…oh, Father… _how I hate him_." Tears of anger flooded her eyes as she thought of him. "I had loved him so much, just as Legolas had, as _she_ had. Now, I can only think of how my mind becomes clouded with hatred for him. Does he…does he _know_ what he has done?" She scowled with disgust. "He _must_ know. Oh, he knew that she would be in such a state if he ever left her. He _knew_ , and yet he did it anyway. I meant what I said to her two nights ago, that he is the worst person imaginable, that he deserves the worst punishment imaginable for a person! I am so _frustrated_ , Father! I do not know what to do! Help me to be patient and wait on you…but please, please, _move_. Move, Father…she needs you _so_ desperately."

She sat in quiet for some time and then she felt pushing beneath her hand, almost as a kick—it was quite fierce, and left her feeling a bit breathless, but she laughed, laying her hand on that place on her womb.

"Little one, that was quite a kick! You shall have long, strong legs, just like your father," she added tenderly. "Oh, I love you, little one, and even though I am nervous about you joining us in the world, I am also excited and delighted! I cannot wait to hold you in my arms, but can you wait a bit longer for your father?" The child moved only slightly beneath her hand; she knew that he could not move much as he was so large right now that he did not have much room. "I miss him, too. Let me pray for you, my love.

"Father, even in all this darkness, surrounded by sorrow, you have given me this joy complete. Oh, this little light, heaven's light, that you have given! You have blessed us with this life, Legolas and me, and given me a world of hope because of this little one we will soon hold within our arms. May I forever praise you, forever bless your name for giving me Legolas, a love that I would have never known had you not healed my heart. Please keep him safe as he journeys here; I pray he will be here soon. Watch over him and give him strength and speed. Bless him; send him my love."

She smiled up at the heavens and then looked down to rub her stomach again. "Shall I sing for you, little one? It has been too long since your father sang to you; this last month has been very hard on your mother and father. Forgive me," she whispered. "But let me sing to you now, while there is rejoicing and a song in my heart to yet be sung."

 _You do not have a name, or have opened up your eyes_

 _And no one yet can recognize your face_

 _You are being formed, so delicate in size_

 _Secluded within Eru's hidden place_

 _With little tiny hands, and little tiny feet_

 _And little eyes that shimmer like a pearl_

 _He will breathe in you a song, and to make it all complete_

 _He will bring the masterpiece into the world_

 _You are a masterpiece, a new creation he has formed_

 _And you are as soft and fresh as a snowy winter's morn_

 _And I am so glad that He has given you to me_

 _Little love of mine, you are a masterpiece_

 _You are almost in my arms, your life a miracle_

 _Every time I think of you, I stand in awe_

 _I will see in you a reflection of Him_

 _And you will always be our little love from the One_

 _And as I hold you close to me, how I pray that you will see_

 _Just how much your life has meant to me_

 _You are a masterpiece, a new creation he has formed_

 _And you are as soft and fresh as a spring's sunny morn_

 _And I am so glad that He has given you to me_

 _Little love of mine, you are a masterpiece_

* * *

Arwen stood in the shadows near the corner of the house, her ears attuned to every word sung by her dearest friend as she attempted to stifle her tears. _Why_ could she not stop crying? Why must every day she be faced with new challenges, new trials to overcome? She had not even thought of this one in so long, for what did it matter? What did it matter if she could never bear children? The only man she had ever desired had given himself to someone else.

She had not thought it possible that she could grow any wearier of the world than she had been within this past week, but this—Enguina's song of love and joy—pierced and crushed what was left of her broken heart. Oh, her friend was so blissfully happy, so deliriously in love! And rightfully so! Arwen had prayed for her for so long to have everything she had always wanted, and this was an answer to that prayer. It made her ache with longing; longing for a child, yes, but even worse, a longing for the arms that could never hold her the way they had once held her; even if she could have forgiven him, it would never be the same. Enguina was full of joy, even when _her_ life had fallen apart.

That was _wrong!_ It was _wrong_ for her to think such things! Enguina had every right! She had a husband who loved her, a beautiful home, and a child who would very soon be here—why should _she_ be sorrowful? She thought of the lock clicking on the door last night and how she had wanted to wail as though she had been held captive in a prison. There was no escape from what she felt! She had used a pillow to smother her cries so that she would not wake Enguina. When she had woken from her brief sleep this morning, she had escaped to come out here into the cold. She was barely clothed—she only wore a long tunic that reached mid-thigh and had used to fit her quite well; now it hung from her frame. Her feet bare, her unkempt hair hanging down about her shoulders—she looked like a waif. _And_ she was freezing. But she had not cared about any of that, _could_ not have cared. What she needed was to escape and she had…only to come out here and remember that there was no escape, not from any of it.

Her right hand tightened over her left breast, clutching her body and holding her chest together, her breathing shallow. She was so drained that she leaned against the edge of their home, her physical pain and weakness overtaking her; her knees trembled and her head and neck ached. She knew the symptoms—she was dehydrated and deprived of food—but she was neither hungry nor thirsty. There was _nothing_ but the agony she felt; she was quite literally drowning in her own despair. Nothing could be done; nothing would ever be said that could rescue her. Enguina had tried everything that could be tried; tough love, sympathy, compassion, anger, fear…all of it had no effect. She rubbed her face, trying once again to stem the flow of inevitable tears that threatened to overwhelm.

As she stared from this distance at Enguina seated upon the bench, her thoughts strayed to what Enguina had said this morning and her eyes closed. She _hurt_ from the prayer Enguina had prayed for her. How could she pray for her to let him go? Was such a thing even possible, when he was so embedded in her heart, her life? Over such a man as him, she had said…that she hated him, she said. Hot tears fell and she covered her face with a hand; how could she, Arwen, ever hate the man whom she had called _beloved_? _Beloved!_ A term which clearly meant one whom is greatly loved? No, she could never hate him, though her heart be broken and shattered. And how could Enguina think that she could prevent her from doing _this_ to herself? What was _this_? And _what_ could ever, in her whole existence, be worth living for if not him? Ilúvatar's plan for her life had been _him_! To encourage and love _him!_ She had known this in her heart since laying eyes upon him in Imladris for the first time though she had not understood it! _Aragorn_ was the reason she was here in Middle-Earth at all; _Aragorn_ was the reason she was even alive right now, for the many times he had rescued her; _Aragorn_ _was her whole life_. _Aragorn…Aragorn…_

His name punched her in the gut every time; it fell on her heart like boulder. Grief choked her and she found herself gasping, needing air—clearly, she had once more forgotten to breathe. Oh, why could she not simply forget to breathe and never start again? Why had this happened? Why had he chosen his line over her? He had _sworn_ to be faithful! To her alone! That he would share the rest of his life with her, and her alone! That whatever he had to give, all of it, was only to her and for her! Oh there was nothing that could strip away everything that she had been more than this could; she did not even know who she was anymore! The memories took over then, fierce and unmerciful, one after another until her mind was numb with agony over them.

At some point later when she surfaced from the drowning in memories and grief, her left shoulder struck something hard and she fell to the right, unable to prevent the fall with her arm so tightly wrapped around her chest. She tumbled into the snow, lifted her head, and found an unfamiliar patch of trees before her. Glancing around to her left and right, she realized that in her dementia, she must have begun walking; she did not recognize this part of the woods and she did not know how far she was from the house as it was gone from sight. And she suddenly realized that perhaps it was better this way.

" _Lord, my Lord! Please, take me!_ " she sobbed aloud, stumbling to her feet again and wandering even further into the woods. She had left no note; she had said _nothing_ to her best friend of hundreds of years, there would be no painful goodbyes. As she remembered Enguina's words two nights ago, the pain on her face as she had locked her in the guestroom last night, the grief in her prayer this morning, she knew that it _was_ better this way. It would be so unfair for her to force Enguina—happy, heavy with child, Enguina—to watch her as she succumbed to death. There was nothing anyone could do. There was no point to carrying on this façade; she would never be able to accept it, never rise above it, never forget and never move on. It was physically impossible. She had given him her whole heart; how could she forget, leave behind someone that she had given her life for? Aragorn was no longer hers…and she no longer wanted to live. Her father had been right: she had come to grief, to death…how she hated that he had been right.

And yet, no matter what Aragorn had done to her, she yearned for him as she had never wanted anything in her life. To pass the tree before her and to run straight into his chest and warmth, to be enfolded by his arms—oh! there was nothing like his embrace. Loving him with her whole heart had destroyed her; her shattered heart wanted him so terribly…but there was nothing that could be done. She had soon forgotten to breathe again, and she found herself gasping air once more, her blurred vision causing her to bump into trees and her bare feet to stumble and trip over roots as she shook from the cold. Snow was beginning to fall once more, but she could barely notice; nothing mattered. _Nothing._

 _Wait._

From far off, deep in her mind, she heard the word.

 _Wait._

She could not. She could not listen to it. The despair was a death shroud about her. She would continue to stumble along as far away as she could go until she was too weak to go any further; then she would crawl until she simply could not any more, where she would fall and never get up again. She would be away from the world, far from any place she had called home, and far, far away from the people she loved.


	51. Chapter 51

Author's Note: There is a moment's excerpt here from a passage somewhere in Psalms that I edited and three lines from "Stars and Midnight Blue" by Enya. I own neither the song, nor the Bible. Enjoy!

* * *

When the snow began to collect in her hair, Enguina got to her feet, still rubbing her belly and singing softly to the child; she had also grown uncomfortable on the hard bench, and she was hungry for it was time for breakfast. At this point, Arwen must have been awake, so she assumed that as she had been out there for so long that her friend might have decided to cook something for breakfast. As she came inside, it was obvious that Arwen was not within the kitchen and she sighed, setting her mug upon the table.

"Arwen," she called, "wake up, dearest!" She did not need to call loudly for sound traveled quickly within the house. Waiting for her, she began rummaging through the kitchen and stoking the fire to heat more tea for herself. It was good to be inside where there was no chill or wetness. Within a few minutes, she decided that she might as well go on down to Arwen's room.

Arriving there, she found the door ajar. She fought back the immediate worry.

"Arwen?" she questioned, and nudged the door open with her foot. Inside, she found the blanket she had laid over her…and nothing else. Her clothes were unmoved, so she was not dressed yet. Arwen was probably washing her face in the bath and hopefully, taking care of the cuts she had made on her legs yesterday. Frowning, Enguina turned away back into the hallway and went to the bath, finding the door open and no one inside. No…not in _her_ room…not in the guest room… _certainly_ not in Erumar's…not in the living room…

"Arwen?"

Her voice echoed in the empty house as her fingers gripped a doorframe.

Unbidden, but sudden and strong came the terrible, overwhelming sense of dread. It had not been too long since the moment of nearly losing her on their journey here, but this was so much more intense than that. She had been afraid of losing Arwen then, but too much had happened since—she had grown steadily worse; she had almost killed herself two nights ago. Now Enguina was terrified. Arwen _could_ _not_ be missing! She simply _could not!_ She would _not_ have gone outside on her own; she could barely walk yesterday, she had been so weak! She would never…she would never have left…not without telling her, not without saying _something…_

Her breathing ragged, Enguina tore through the house, checking every room again, searching as she pleaded with Ilúvatar for her safety aloud. "Father, please! Please let her be here! _Please! I beg you!_ "

The house was a lost cause. She searched every closet and place she thought it possible for an elf to hide herself from the world. She dove for the front door, yanking it open and forgetting her boots inside in her panic. She hurried down the front steps, calling her name, her head twisting and turning in her urgency. Racing across the yard, she ran to the pasture fence, knowing that it was likely Arwen was out here, hiding in the barn with Asfaloth. But no, there he was within the field, romping in the fresh snow with Lómë and Radost—she was not within the barn either, lying in the hay. She traced her steps back to the garden where she found no sign, completely frantic, horrified, and hardly able to draw breath, a hand on her womb as she screamed her name out into the morning.

" _Arwen!_ "

She was beside herself. Had she truly run off into the woods? Had she finally decided she could no longer handle the agony of living? Enguina could barely think straight as she came around the corner of the house and found footprints within the snow.

" _Thank you!_ " she cried aloud, praising the One for the snow that allowed her to see where her friend had gone. Heart racing now with hope, she followed the footsteps out of the glade and into the forest where they led. She was running, _running_ , gasping for breath in her terror. Her prayers were loud and cried out and tears came to her. No, no! She could not lose her! Horrified at the fate that Aragorn had brought upon her, agonized over the thought that the last time Arwen had seen her was as she locked her inside the guestroom. Legolas had told her to prepare herself; he had said all along that it would happen, that there was nothing that could stop it, but _she_ had hoped, had brought her here! And now she was gone! How could she have ever accepted it? How could she accept something so terrible, so unfair! They had all been so happy once!

"Arwen! _Arwen!_ "

She was yelling and throwing herself forward through the snow, grabbing trees to propel herself onward as she passed them, her bare feet sliding about among the sodden leaves. Her train of thought and furious anger at the man who had done this to her friend dissipated as she began to realize that she had been running blindly. She was turned around, unsure where the trail of Arwen had disappeared to and unsure where even the house was from here. Her breath came in gasps, every muscle in her body tight as tears of utter frustration and desperation swamped her every emotion. How would she ever reach her now? How would she stop her from taking her own life?

As a sob caught in her throat and she groaned out her friend's name, she caught a glimpse of a dark, rider-less horse tied to a tree not five feet from her. Another second brought the sight of a lone figure in a cloak coming behind the tree she clung to and she cried out, the man's face hidden in shadow. As she stumbled back in fear, he tossed his hood back, allowing her to see his face.

Surprise, but instant relief flowed through her. She knew this man!

"Oh, praise the One!" she cried breathlessly. "Councilman Nardur! I do not know what brings you to these woods, but I am desperate for aid!"

"You are alone, princess," he replied. He had clearly been riding for quite a while as he was very wet and snow covered his shoulders and hood. "I am uncertain that is wise in your condition."

She shook her head at him, still trying to catch her breath from her fear as she lowered a hand to the taut muscles across her abdomen. "My Lord, I need your help! The Queen is missing and I have been searching the woods, calling for her…but she is not answering! I _must_ find her! Please, will you help me?"

"The Queen is missing?" he asked as his eyebrows rose. "And she has been with you?"

"Yes!" she cried out, worry etched into her every feature. "And I must find her, before…before it is too late! I only just saw her! Not…not even an hour before!" Her tears began as she saw his unconcerned face, but she reached up and swiped at them. "Please, I think she went that way and I—"

"I am sure she is only walk—"

"No, no! She is unwell!" she cried, breaking down. " _She is unwell and I must find her!_ " She was panicking now, and her hands wrapped around her womb as she felt discomfort there—the child must have been concerned with her concern, but she could do nothing to soothe him at the moment. Terror for Arwen was her only thought; her eyes began scanning the woods to look for signs of her.

"Your husband told me that—"

"You spoke with Legolas?" she asked, now distracted. She barely knew this man; she searched her mind for all that she knew of him. Snippets of conversation with Legolas was all she remembered: that he was cruel, that he had said nasty things about Arwen…that he, too, had said she was barren and had been spreading rumors about her…her thoughts suddenly broke into words.

"You…you _helped_ Aragorn hurt her," she immediately accused, uncertain why the words suddenly came to her. "You had his _ring!_ You let this happen!" Tears came once again in her fear. " _Why? Why would you do such a thing? What are you even doing here?_ "

"I helped it along," he stated, his voice firm, but he wore a nasty, sickening smile upon his face. "The King needed the right push, my Lady…he needed some _persuasion_. It did not take too much to convince him that this course was the right one."

She stared at him, the nausea in her stomach and the tightness that had begun with Arwen's abrupt departure worsening exponentially. "You…you _pushed_ …?"

"The Lady was already going with him; it was not that difficult to get him to believe that his wife was barren and useless, and that he needed to take another."

"That is _adultery_ ," she suddenly spat at him, taking a step back. "He was her _husband! And you helped him commit adultery_!"

"He needed an heir!" he snarled suddenly, eyes dark as he stepped into her space. "She was never going to give him one. The throne of Gondor needs to be taken care of! What do _you_ know?" She took a step back and he moved forward again, driving her against the tree. "You look _very_ tired, Princess Enguina. Perhaps you should go home and rest. I will venture out, and search for the useless Evenstar." He turned his head, now a sly look in his eye. "You say she is headed in what direction?"

Loud and wailing noises went off inside her head like Arwen's cries in the night at the look on his face, his demeanor, his words… "Why…" No, that was not the question she wanted to ask. Angry now, her fear for Arwen's fate overtaking her, she shoved him back with both hands to his chest, her abdomen tightening again. If there was something she could not handle just now, it was being cornered. "I want to know what you are doing here!"

He glared at her, and then shoved her back into the tree where she knocked her head against it. She winced but glared back, her hand on her womb again. "I came to ensure the King would have a child through the Lady Erumar," he snapped, leaning towards her. "I originally had planned for the Queen to bear him one, but when it became apparent she was barren, I had to help it along. I am here to be sure the King _never_ sees the Queen again. She is useless, unneeded. I am here to rid Gondor of a barren Queen that the King no longer needs."

In an instant, his words began to make sense to her; he was here to…he was here to kill _Arwen_. He was not sent from heaven to help her! He was here to finish the job he had begun with Aragorn in Minas Tirith so many months ago! "No…you…no, you cannot be—"

"Serious?" he interrupted her and laughed. "Oh, but I _am_. Now, remind me again…which direction did the unwell she-elf wander off in? I have been wandering in the woods for a few days and finding her easily would save my wasting any more time."

Every moment of horror and fear over Arwen's disappearance this morning assaulted her as she looked on his nasty little smile. Her face flushed red and she _saw_ red, reaching out and punching him in the jaw—a good, solid hit. He cried out as she screamed, "NO!" at the top of her lungs, striking him in the face a second time and harder. He would have gone down had his hand not caught the tree and prevented him from falling.

She launched herself at him; she would never allow him to touch Arwen, never allow him to set one foot in the direction she believed she had been traveling in. Both of her arms wrapped around his throat, and she tightened her grip and yanked him backwards off his feet, yelling at him all the while. He tore at her arms as she choked him, trying to claw his way free but unable to get his feet underneath himself.

"You will not touch her! _You will not touch her!_ " Enguina cried, tightening her arms even further like a noose as she panted for breath, the adrenaline flowing through her making her forget her soreness, anger overtaking her fear for Arwen's life.

Nardur thrashed, and finally to his relief, one of his boot heels hit a tree root. Finding this leverage, he slammed himself backwards and caused her to stumble back into a tree. She fought to keep her hold on his neck and spots began swimming before his eyes. Unable to make any progress with her arms, he began elbowing whatever he could reach, first her ribcage and then her belly, repeatedly and _hard_.

She had no choice; she released his throat and gripped her stomach, the sudden pain causing her to double over. As soon as she did, he was knocking her to the ground, and she immediately wrapped her arms around her belly to protect the child. He lashed out once, kicking her squarely in the hands that held her belly, and she felt the middle finger snap on her right hand as she cried out to him:

" _Stop! Stop, please, stop!_ "

He calmed his wrath long enough for her to breathe, and stabbing pain ran through her abdomen and her eyes closed in brief agony. Her mouth open in a small 'o', she lay still as her hands gripped her own belly, her womb in turmoil. Strange sensations overcame her, and in her pain, panic reigned.

" _Please, please!_ " she begged. " _Arwen_ —"

"You vicious little creature," he snapped, feeling the burst blood vessels in his face. "I could kill you right now if I wanted to but I have more pressing business: the Queen is waiting."

He spun back towards his horse, but she threw her head back and looked at him, calling out again. " _Please! Nardur, no! Leave her alone!_ "

He untied his horse and mounted swiftly, ignoring her cries and her tears. He looked down on her and then suddenly laughed once. "I will let her know that you were glad she was going to die, that you were glad her suffering was finally over…that I took her from this world and put her out of her misery."

" _No!_ " she wept, but he spurred his horse, riding away even as she attempted to pull herself up to go after him. Pain swept over her again and she gritted her teeth as she gripped her womb, falling back onto her side, her head knocking against the tree again. Her initial thought—panic—was clearly not strong enough. Now she was terrified! What was happening to her? Could she get up? What would she do if she could not? Had something terrible happened to the baby?

She sat up slowly, breathing hard, her thoughts now only centered on the little life within her. She felt no other pain except that across her stomach, her hands wrapped around her womb, ignoring the broken finger. The running, the terror, the possibility of such terrible grief…all of it coming together—could she have hurt him? She pressed her back against the tree, breathing so hard in her worry; she had no self-control.

She knew she was sitting in the snow, but this was different; she suddenly felt a rush of fluid and a cramping across her mid-section that was not normal. She had wet her dress from the _inside_ , not from without. And suddenly, with unbelievable clarity she _knew_ : she was in labor.

Enguina began gasping, out of control, panic setting in. She was in the middle of woods, lost, alone, in pain, in labor, Arwen being hunted down, Legolas miles away, a person who she had thought was help riding away…her life had spiraled out of control within this last hour! And she did not remember what to do, what was happening to her! She had forgotten every piece of advice Erumar had provided, every possible reminder was gone from her mind. _PanicPanicPanic!_ It was all her mind was screaming, as though she had never known anything about what was going to happen.

" _Ilúvatar! Help…oh, god, help me!_ " she cried out, trying to control her terrible fright. Her _hands,_ her _knees_ were shaking so terribly! There was no way, in this condition, that she could go after Arwen now, and the snow was falling more heavily. She struggled in an attempt to slow her breathing, pressing one hand to the center of her forehead, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to think about what she needed to do instead of react. Carefully, painfully, she struggled to her feet, pulling herself up and using the tree as an aid. Leaning against it with her knees trembling, she closed her eyes once again, trying to center herself.

 _Oh god…what am I to do? What about Arwen? How can I reach her?_ Hot tears choked her. _What am I to do, Father? I am alone! Alone in these woods, afraid I will not find the house again, Arwen missing, and I am as I had sworn to Legolas I would not be! Oh, dear Father, I am afraid! I do not know what to do! How can I save Arwen from Nardur, from herself?_

She stumbled after the horse in the direction he had gone, but she only made it a few steps before a brief contraction caught her. In her surprise, she was left breathless, knees trembling even worse as she gripped a tree to keep herself upright again. Oh, she was so afraid! Subconsciously, she called out to her husband, wishing him near.

 _Legolas! Legolas, please!_

She was afraid for herself, and she was afraid for Arwen, but going any deeper into the woods in her condition would be the worst possible thing she could do for the baby. How would she get Arwen back to the house? She would never be able to carry her! And she could not fight Nardur, not in her condition! It was the most difficult thing she had to do; it made her feel as though she was the most terrible friend in the entire world. How dare she be forced to choose between her child and her best friend? She had to leave Arwen in Ilúvatar's hands now as she turned herself around and began staggering back the way she had come.

"Father, save her! You are the only one who can!" she cried aloud as she kept going on shaking legs. She glanced down at her arms and saw bruises appearing where his well-placed kicks had struck her, but her hand was definitely the worst already, her finger aching as the skin was darkening to black where it had clearly broken. She reached up and wiped her forehead, sweat already beading there. As she called out for Ilúvatar to protect her and Arwen, she unconsciously thought about nothing save the fact that she was alone and that she did not know what to do and that she might actually have to bring this child into the world alone. Nothing frightened her more, calling out for Legolas over and over again in her head.

 _Oh, god…help me! Help me, please, Legolas! Ilúvatar, come to my desperate aid!_

Another contraction came causing her to stumble in the snow as she dragged herself onward, holding onto trees as she went and attempting to continue breathing deeply. She wanted to be sick, such was her anxiety as she reached desperately for help and hope for both herself and for Arwen. She prayed with all her might that there was hope for both of them, that she would not remain alone in these woods, and that _someone_ , even if it were an _animal_ , would rescue Arwen from the evil that was on its way to her.

* * *

Hildanir shivered and tugged his cloak up higher about his neck, shaking the snow from his hair. "I thought Ithilien was a beautiful place," he muttered, staring hard at Aragorn's back. Over the last few miles, the man had grown more silent, more brooding than he had seen him on this entire excursion. He was not well either, but he somehow refused to give in. Legolas was just as quiet; they were only little more than a mile from his home now, and it was clear they were anxious.

"Whaddya mean?" asked Mennev, confused. "It's very pretty in here! Look at all this snow clinging to the trees! It's pretty!"

"It is not that," Hildanir said, not thinking that someone would have overheard him. "It is…it is something else…"

"Something _ominous_ ," Legolas added in agreement, his voice carrying back to Hildanir. Aragorn did not even lift his head.

"Yes, that was what I was thinking but could not voice," Hildanir agreed. He stared at his King's back and frowned. "Perhaps we should rest, Aragorn."

The man lifted his head with a clear effort as Legolas even turned to look at him. "No," he replied, "we are nearly there; it would be senseless to stop now." Hildanir opened his mouth to remind him how unfit he was, but Aragorn continued. "I am fine; stop fretting, Hildanir."

"You are not fine," Legolas stated, though his voice was soft. "You need to sleep for a week."

Aragorn smiled, leaning on the pommel of his saddle. "Yes, when Arwen is safe, I will do just that. Lie about as a houseguest and finally think about my own injuries."

"That I made worse," the elf pointed out, "when I assaulted you. When we do get home you can—"

Aragorn dropped his reins and raised a hand. "Hold, everyone." His eyes were scanning the ground before them, and Legolas immediately began doing the same. Hildanir and Mennev pulled up alongside them.

"What's going on?" asked Mennev. "Whaddya see?"

"Tracks," Hildanir replied, pointing. With difficulty, Aragorn dismounted even as Hildanir protested. Legolas remained in the saddle, poised for flight if necessary.

"Read them for us, Aragorn." Legolas watched him, moving more slowly than he had ever seen him. The man reached out between some thorns and pulled a scrap of fabric out, holding it up for them to see. "Whose might that be?" he asked, concern in his voice. It was much too far for either Enguina or Arwen to be out walking in their conditions.

Aragorn shook his head, and Legolas's heart swooped as the man continued staring around at the footprints, limping back and forth among the trails. "This was Enguina…running, barefoot," he said pointing at a trail headed northeast.

" _Running?_ " Legolas's heart swooped again.

Then Aragorn turned and pointed at another trail headed directly northward, laying his hand on a nearby tree that had been scraped he rubbed his fingers against the spot.

"What is it?" asked Hildanir.

"This… _this_ was Arwen," he said softly. "She was stumbling along and she hit the tree with her shoulder, scraping her arm. Her feet are also bare…she was unwell, walking unsteadily." He paused and looked down, pointing east. "And that was a horse who was crossing this trail just this morning." He followed the tracks for a few feet, staring out into the woods, then looking back and around at the other tracks. Legolas watched him.

"Why was she running?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but I can say with some certainty," Aragorn added, "that she was…in a hurry, even frantic."

"Do you think," Hildanir asked, "that it could be safe to say the horse was Nardur?"

"Let's hunt him down!" snarled Mennev suddenly and Dusday tossed his head as the man's hands tightened on the reins in his excitement.

"I would believe that they may be fresh enough to be his horse," Aragorn replied sighing. "Though I may be wrong—"

"Never," Legolas said firmly. "Why do Enguina and Arwen's prints lead in separate directions?" This was deeply concerning him. "Are they recent as well?"

"Yes, though later than Nardur's, if it is him." Aragorn looked down, worry on his every feature.

"Speak your mind, Aragorn," Legolas said. "We have no time."

"Nardur crossed this way. Arwen came after, again unwell. Enguina attempted to follow. My guess is that she was running after her and missed the trail; she was clearly panicked." He shook his head. "It all bodes ill."

"I'm for hunting Nardur," stated Mennev again, "but I will follow the will of the King."

"I need to find Enguina," Legolas said, and Aragorn nodded.

"I will take Arwen's path."

"You are not well," Hildanir said immediately. "You cannot go alone."

"Nardur is the evil here, not my wife," Aragorn said. "Find him, and you will have all the evil with you. There is nothing for me to fear in these woods." Hildanir wanted to rebel, Aragorn could see it in his face. "Please, Hildanir. Help Mennev find Nardur, then come after me."

He snapped his fist to his chest. "Yes, my Lord."

"We'll hunt 'im down," said Mennev as he spurred his horse forward and Hildanir followed closely on his heels. They disappeared between the trees and as Aragorn struggled to mount-up again, he heard Legolas gasp.

"What is it?" he asked. "Legolas, are you well?"

"Guin…" he said, grimacing, "she is calling for me."

Aragorn directed Brego to him even as the bay pawed the ground impatiently. "Any sense of emotion from her?"

" _Fear_ …she is frightened, and in pain…"

"Go," he said immediately. "Follow her path and find her."

Legolas touched his head for a moment. "I cannot send her anything; her fear is so _strong_ …" He shook his head. "I have never felt such a thing before." His eyes darkened and his hands tightened on Brethil's reins. "If Nardur has _touched_ her—"

"Forget returning him to Minas Tirith," Aragorn stated. "Exercise whatever right you must if you find him with her. _Go_ , Legolas!"

"You must be careful," Legolas said, even as he turned away rapidly into the woods. "You are not well, Aragorn!"

Forcing himself up out of the saddle and into jump position, his leg trembling with having to support him, his hip paining terribly as he urged Brego into a ground-covering trot, Aragorn gritted his teeth, resting his hands on the bay's neck. "Why does everyone keep reminding me, Brego?" he muttered. "Do they think I forget the almost constant pain?"

Brego snorted, throwing his head down and shaking it roughly.

"They must think that I can fight this despair," he continued. "That living without her touch in my mind for a month is normal, sustainable…it is not. I am…I have lost half of myself." He stared hard at the ground, watching the footprints of his beloved wife stumble by as Brego increased his speed. He praised Ilúvatar for finding these trails; now he begged for him to help him find his wife, whole and alive. His anxiety increased a hundred-fold as he prayed for it with every breath.

* * *

 _Come, my Lord, and set me free from my heart's prison!_

 _I have cried aloud to you; my beloved has abandoned me_

 _I am alone, forsaken, unloved, in desperate need_

 _My spirit grows faint within me, and I have no refuge_

 _None but you, my Lord!_

 _So take me home! Find me; see me here, take me to you!_

 _Take me away and let it all end, let it be over!_

 _May the end you have chosen for me find me quickly_

 _I pour out myself before you; I lift up my voice to my Lord for mercy!_

This heartbreaking chant was what led Nardur to Arwen's side; he had clearly been closing in on her, and as soon as he heard her voice, he dismounted. He would know her voice anywhere, raised or in whispered prayer, for he had eavesdropped too many times to count. Tying his horse up, he made his way around the tree and she came into his sight.

It was clear she was a mess. If he had not known who she was, he may not have recognized her. She was lying between several trees, her knees pulled up to her chest, one arm wrapped around them while the other was hidden by her legs. There were scratches down her skin, especially on her thighs which were hardly covered by the long tunic she wore. She was soaking wet and shivering, with her head to her knees, and out of her mouth were coming the words that she had been saying when he had nearly ridden by.

After traveling alone for so many days, searching Ithilien, trying to find them, he had made a plan for what he was to do when he _did_ find them. He was too eager to put an end to it, _all of it_ , and then he would escape, completely free. Therefore, upon seeing her on the ground, he simply walked directly toward her, not even attempting to hide.

She heard the steps, but so terrible was her despair that she begged silently for Ilúvatar to take her before the arrival of whoever was coming. Arwen did not raise her head; so lost was she in anguish, what she was feeling and remembering, that other words came out of her mouth, part of a song; the low, tormented notes would have sent a shiver down the spine of a feeling person—but not Nardur.

 _Memories we shared together…moments no one else can know_

 _I will keep them close to me, never let them go_

 _Once you filled my hands with roses, then you gave your heart to me—_

"I knew," Nardur interrupted her, "that my words had an effect on you, Evenstar." His voice was so snide, she knew immediately who it was that had come to break her self-imposed exile. "Yet, I expected nothing like this: you, lying out her alone, praying, barely clothed."

She made no attempt to move, to cover herself, to do anything to acknowledge his presence other than whisper brokenly, " _Leave me._ " Why he was here, she could not imagine, but she could not find it in her to care either. What was broken could not ever be fixed; she simply wanted to die alone. Could Ilúvatar not even give her that?

"I knew Aragorn's… _indiscretion_ …might hurt you, but for you to run away on your own without the Lady Enguina? With no one here to come running to your rescue?"

"No," she replied weakly, her voice painfully tight. She had been crying for so long, she could have cared less what was happening around her, why he was asking her these questions…it did not matter. Nothing did, except Ilúvatar's answer to her prayer. _Father…hear me, my Lord, please…please, take me…_

"Do you not even wonder why I am here?" he asked, incredulous that she had not even moved, had not even looked at him, and was apparently unconcerned that she did not have much on in the way of clothing. He would have thought her embarrassed. She made no move.

All she could see was the darkness. She did not care why he had come.

"I came to see you," he pressed, his hand resting over his heart. "I am wounded, Evenstar. Is this how you treat an old friend?"

His attempt to rile her failed utterly, and her voice was void of all emotion as she replied, "There is nothing left to say. You have done your deed; you can have nothing more to speak to me."

"I have a few words left," he said. "But perhaps I shall speak and you shall now listen, as before you did not, and now you know that every word I spoke was true." He smiled as he watched tears spill from her eyes at his words. Even as he stared at her, he noticed she was not breathing. His eyebrows went up as she suddenly gasped, her body tightening with the effort. Perhaps…she _was_ ill as Enguina had said…and then as he looked at her, really looked at her as he drew nearer, he realized why he had not seen her in over a month. She was incredibly thin, gaunt even, and her body trembled in the snow. It appeared that she might not have long for this world; perhaps it was possible that all he merely had to do was stand about and wait.

"Are you going to keep breathing?" he asked softly, but there was a malice to his voice that hung in the air between them. His voice was close, not more than a few feet, yet she still did not look up, did not respond. Nardur scowled at her tears; his fingers flexed at his hip, but he could not…not yet; he had left the knife on his saddle. Instead, he continued, knowing he would have to either take her to it or return to get it before he killed her.

"The Prince informed me of where you had gone," he said with a sneer. "You had traveled here, with the Lady. You see, I needed to…speak with you one last time. You can imagine that I was surprised to hear you had gone, for it was nothing I said that made you go; I would have seen it in your face during our last chat when you told me that I would lose my title as a councilman. No, I knew it had not been _me_ that had convinced you that he had betrayed you." He watched her hands come up slowly as she pressed them to her ears, her eyes were closed, pain and tears on her face. "It was something else; something you knew that made you believe that Elessar was lying with her, leaving you alone in your barrenness."

"Please… _please…do not speak his name…_ " she whispered brokenly, and he dove down into the snow before her on one knee. Reaching out, he snatched her hands from her head and yanked her upright, slamming her backwards into the tree as he held her wrists so tight, twisting them mercilessly. She had never thought him to be a violent man, but the physical pain cut through her despair and she winced, finally opening her eyes to see the rage in his.

" _Aragorn!_ " he snapped in her face. "I have had to listen to him and the people speak your name for the last ten years, you can suffer to hear his!" He shook her hard, knocking her up against the tree again. "You know, I did not hate you in the beginning; I thought you were good for him, good for the City. But then everything changed; a barren Queen is unnecessary to the King. Now that he has found the Lady Erumar, he has no use for you. And yes, I _encouraged_ him to commit adultery against you, you worthless bitch, so that he could have a child, one that _you_ could not give him!

"The King of Gondor must have a child, an heir! The illness you went through ravaged your body, ruined any chance of there ever being another child. Our only hope from you lies in the Silent Street!" he shouted at her. Choking on her tears, she turned her face away, unable to deny a single word he spoke. "You _know_ that what he did was the only thing he _could_ do! You know that he was _right to do it._ "

She did not argue with him; she did not fight with him. She was too weak to pull away, even as he snarled in her face, holding her wrists far too tight. He yanked back on her arms, _hard_ , pulling her to her knees as he dragged her forward from the tree. The physical strain was almost too much in her very weakened state as he yanked her around; her head swung to face him, and she closed her eyes, her breathing ragged.

"Now, for what I came to say," he stated, his voice low and menacing as he shook her. "The King has found another, and she will produce him an heir so that the line of Telcontar will endure. _You_ , however…you are now completely _unnecessary_ , _worthless_. Therefore, it is time for you to _end_."

He released her hands and struck her across the face; she tumbled to the ground, falling into the snow onto her side, her lips bleeding from the slap. He grabbed her by one ankle and dragged her through the snow. She was faint and she would not have been able to care where he was taking her, but her wrist caught on a vine and held her arm fast, which stunted his progress.

Nardur took no time to think. Infuriated that she had not fought back at all and this was her first stand against him, he held fast to her ankle and kicked her hard, three or four times in the abdomen, her ribs and even her chest. She never would have thought to protect herself, to bring her arms to cover her chest. Excruciating pain fired through her ribs and breasts, and she gasped in agony. He yanked her hard again and dragged her onward through the snow; still she did not seek to prevent him. She was so ready to die; his words were like knives into her heart, everything that she had been telling herself: she had never been enough, and now Erumar could be what she could not, could give him what she could not. Love would never be enough, not even the impossible love she felt for him, love that had led to her sacrifice. Her body bumped over uneven ground and her mind went white from the pain in her ribs.

He flung her down and as he turned away, so did she; reeling from the pain, she had no choice as she gripped her own body, attempting to roll. He looked back and angrily caught her leg again, yanking her closer and flipping her onto her back, slamming his fist down into the center of her chest.

" _Stay where I put you!_ " he snarled as she struggled to breathe and then he struck her in the face again, her left eye already beginning to swell. He straightened and unsheathed the knife he had on his saddle as the horse danced away from the commotion. Coughing, Arwen tried again to roll onto her side, but his booted foot planted itself on her pelvis, pinning her onto her back. She could barely draw breath as he leaned down towards her, wrapping his hand in her hair to yank her head back as she felt a cold blade pressed to her exposed throat.

Nardur stared at her pulse through the thin skin of her neck, and wondered at himself for a moment. Why _was_ he so angry? He supposed it was because he had waited for so long to be rid of her; it might have been that even though Gondor would have a new Queen _he_ would never see her on the throne because of _her_ —he could never go back to Minas Tirith. But…no one knew of his plan to kill her, save Enguina. No one else knew where she was! If he could handle all of it quickly, he might still be able to live out his days as a free man. Let _Ethring_ hang for their duty, for the glory of Gondor preserved! Why did _he_ need to? He would not be able to return home, but at least he could be free…and Middle-Earth was large enough to hide in. Elessar would never find him.

"I have been waiting for a very long time for this," he whispered to her as he hauled her by her hair to a sitting position as he removed his foot from her hip, a groan leaving her lips. He held the knife tight to her throat, slicing into her skin just a little bit. "I have been waiting to see you humbled, _humiliated_ at my feet, begging for mercy. So go on, _Evenstar_ ," he hissed. " _Go on and beg!_ "

But she was not going to beg for mercy. In fact, if she was going to do anything, it would be to beg him to do it. _Just do it, please!_ _Just end this, Nardur!_ She cried out in her head, begging for him to kill her. _End it all and I can sleep…and forget…and I can forget him._ So instead of struggling or begging for mercy, she lifted her chin and exposed her throat even as he held her head back, the words to beg him to end her life were nearly on her lips. She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he saw no defiance there; he _did_ see, however, not only a simple acceptance, but the plea. He could see it on her face—no fear. Not of death.

"So this is what you _want_?" he whispered, leaning so close to her ear his lips were brushing it. She was shivering as he held her hair. "Half-naked in the woods, and you _want_ me to take your life? It would be so easy; I have beaten you to this mess, and yet you still seek death, at my hand." He laughed. "You truly are not going to fight back? This is what you want?"

She watched him as he spoke, but there was nothing else to say, no clever response, no desire to have a battle of words with him. She just tilted her head back a bit farther. " _Do it…please…_ "

She felt his hand leave her hair and reach down to drag from her hip to her knee and she jerked beneath him, the knife slicing her throat. He burst out laughing at her. "If I wanted you I certainly could take you before I killed you," he hissed. "If nothing else, you would still make a good whore; I have known that for years. I have seen Elessar undress you so many times! But I do not want that. I never have." He laughed as her eyes closed again; she could withstand his talk if he would take her life at the end of it, she could withstand the last few minutes, even with him, as long as the end result was the same. He grabbed her hair again, wrapping it once around his hand before he smiled. "If you will not beg for mercy, then your time has run out, Evenstar."

He shoved her roughly down onto her back, planting a foot on her pelvis again and wrapping both hands firmly around the hilt of his knife and touching it to her chest. "I only have one thing left to do before I can be free," he murmured, his hands trembling in anticipation as he leaned over her. She grimaced at the agony firing through her ribs, but with half a mind that listened to him, she heard his next words. "Once I kill you, I must turn back…and find the Lady Enguina."

 _Enguina?_

"She is the only one who can place me here. Yes, she must also die, for the sake of my freedom." He whispered the words, almost to himself, but they were the first ones that she heard loud and clear. If there was one thing that could have dragged Arwen out of the weakness and self-destruction, it was threatening Enguina and that baby.

" _No._ " The words were firm, alive. They were the first words she had spoken with a feeling other than despair in over a month. Nardur laughed.

"Yes, in fact. I promise to make it quick though."

Arwen found a place within her that began a bonfire in her chest and she suddenly let out a roar like a lion. Her hands did not come up, but her foot did, _slamming_ him in the groin, hard and fast, enough to buckle him and cause him to be thrown from her body. She rolled, screaming aloud from the pain in her ribs, and dove out from under him, clambering on her hands and knees until she could pull herself to her feet. She made to turn back to him, but he caught her across the calf with the tip of the knife, causing her to stumble.

She could not fight him, not with a knife, and not in her condition. Instead, she forced herself to a run as she bolted into the woods the way she had come. Pain coursed through her, she could barely breathe as she propelled herself forward even as her body struggled to bring her to the ground. She was uncoordinated, in agony, weak, even sick as she fought the lightheadedness. In no condition to be running, her feet slipped on the wet, snowy ground and she almost fell, catching herself on a tree.

Pain blinded her as something in her wrist snapped from the pressure; she was far too weak and malnourished. Her body could barely support her, knees trembling as she made it another three steps before he slashed her across the back, just the tip of the knife crossing her from shoulder to hip. She did not cry out; instead she spun back and lunged at him, knocking his knife-hand high as she lunged for his throat. They were both snarling, but she did not even see his other hand as he slashed downward, bringing a second knife across the center of her chest almost to her navel, tearing the tunic open.

Staggering back with the blow, the pain from such a slash firing through her, she stumbled backward as he tried to slash at her again, slicing one of her palms as she held her hands up, falling to the ground. Desperation for Enguina flooded her and she caught the blade of the knife in her hand as he fell with her, half-crushing her beneath his weight—that was agony, too. She yanked on the blade as they fell and it came free from his hand and she tossed it backward, beginning to lose feeling in her joints, as cold as she was. He slammed his other hand down just as her body bucked forward, forcing the knife blade down through her body hard enough to pierce the ground.

It _should_ have been her chest as he had been aiming for her heart, but instead he stabbed her shoulder and she suddenly could not breathe. He reached up with his bare hand and smashed her across the face, shouting something unintelligible. She had to get away, _had to_ for Enguina's sake, but Nardur's weight was crushing her, darkness swimming across her vision.

" _Estel…_ "

The word slipped out of her mouth. She called for him; she had not even known she was doing it, and the consequences of such an outcry tore out her heart.

"Go on!" he snarled in her face. " _Cry_ out to him, you _bitch_! He is not here! He no longer cares for you!" He took his hand and smashed it against the center of her forehead, tired of her newfound effort to be free of him.

Darkness consumed her. Her mind struggled for one last thought, knowing she was never going to wake again. And it was of him, of course; not of fear for Enguina, not of her own pain, but of _him_ …his sweet arms reaching for her across the void as his grey eyes filled her vision and his name floated through her head. Then she was gone.

* * *

With an agonized groan, Enguina held her womb and leaned back against the nearest tree, resting her head with a grimace. If she was even headed in the right direction, she might still be nearly a mile from home, and she had no idea how she was going to make it. Terrified about her own condition and Arwen's, she was also exhausted and struggling with the pain. She had been through worse, certainly, but it was more fear of the unknown that ate away at her. Would Ilúvatar save Arwen? Would _she_ make it back to her home before she gave birth to this child? Had she not promised Legolas? And she felt terrible, soaking wet, miserable from the snow that at least had ended! She sank to the ground as another contraction came and her knees began to shake again. With her fingers, she dug into the dirt, feeling every muscle tighten as she cried out.

"Legolas!"

It was dreadful, that feeling where everything pushed and pulled in different directions without her consent. She kept trying to breathe through it but always found herself gasping at the end, and try as she might to ignore them, the helpful remarks of Erumar returned to her. Attempting to push them out of her mind, she tried to ignore anything she might have said, but she was alone…and something from even a terrible person was better than no advice at all. She laid her head back against the tree, disgusted at that thought, the thought that a person as close as a sister could have become so despicable to her, and it was several minutes before she had the presence of mind to think of anything else again. When she did, she heard hoof beats.

Suddenly, she was even more afraid, unsure whether to remain hidden or to announce herself and her desperate need for help. What if it was Nardur again? And so what if it was? Perhaps she had another opportunity to stop him! And if it were help, they could go after Arwen when she could not! Better to be hopeful than cautious! She was about to struggle back to her feet and call out when she felt a very familiar feeling wash over her.

 _Guin, where are you? I am coming!_

His voice, his touch on her mind, was like music to her heart! Her whole being cried out to the One to praise him for bringing her dear one to her side. She immediately reached back, and Brethil came to a sliding stop in the snow. As she was going to call out, another contraction struck, and she found she could not say his name.

"Enguina!" Legolas called aloud, and she maneuvered herself around the tree so that he might see her, a hand on her womb. He leapt from the back of the grey and crouched beside her, reaching for her as Brethil whinnied loudly; she let him take her in his arms, and she kissed him, a thousand thoughts rolling through her even as she rejoiced that he was here. Wrapping her arms about his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair, she held him close to her.

"Oh, Ilúvatar has blessed me," she whispered tearfully, her heart so full she felt it would burst. "My valiant knight on a white steed, come to rescue me."

His hands cupped her face as he leaned back to look into her eyes. "My love, are you within your mind? And why are you sitting in the snow?"

"I am," she replied, and she drew him close again with a hand on the back of his neck to kiss him again. Her mind was flooded with so much relief! "I was resting here," she added, her eyes shining with the joy that he was near. "I am exhausted, Legolas."

He tugged back again, releasing her to take her hands. "Guin—" Her hiss of pain interrupted him as he had squeezed her hands tight. Looking down, he noticed her fingers…and then the bruising on her arms. "What did you do to your hands and arms?" He lifted his head and stared hard at her. "You are soaked through! How long have you been out here?"

"I do not know," she said, noticing how much more gently he held her hands. "Do not worry of them for now. You have a horse; you must go after Arwen! She is in terrible danger!"

"I know," he replied, and though his face was concerned, she could tell he was more concerned for her; he was checking her over as he spoke. "Have you been searching for her? We saw your tracks in the snow and—"

"She left!" she cried out. "She left this morning from the House; I think she was going to die, Legolas!" Suddenly, she started to cry again. "I have been so afraid and—"

"Guin—"

"You must go and find her," she interrupted him. "Please, Nardur is out there as well, and he went to hunt her down. He intends to kill her!"

"I was afraid of that," he replied to her immediate request. "Guin, did Nardur break your finger and bruise you like this?"

"And more," she murmured, "but Legolas there are more important things. Arwen for one, and then there is—" Her voice cut off as a contraction caught her. Her eyes closed and her hands gripped his, even with a broken finger. He said her name, but she could not respond until she had caught her breath. She gave a sigh and a shaking smile, her hands trembling in his. He stared at her, the way she was seated, leaning against the tree; her knees were shaking as well. Lifting his head, he met her eyes and she gave him a weak smile through her clear worry.

"You…" He tried again; his throat was so suddenly dry now that his heart was in it. "You are _not_ —"

Enguina tried to laugh, but it was shaky in her nervousness. "I am," she replied, and he immediately rose to his feet, his chest heaving as he paced for a full five seconds while she stared at him. He held one hand on his chest, and she could see his mouth forming the words: _Oh, my Lord…oh, not now, Father…why now_? He stopped suddenly, and turned to look at her, eyeing the hands on her womb as she tried to breathe slowly; she gave him a tentative smile.

"Is this really happening?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied, and suddenly she grinned. "Yes, it is _really_ happening, love." Legolas was here, and her fear had left her. For that reason alone, she felt elated instead of terrified.

He walked slowly back to her side and crouched down beside her. "You are…you are _really_ in—"

"In labor?" she finished for him, looking into his eyes as she reached up and stroked his face, effectively stilling him. "Yes, I most definitely am. Now, what are we going to do about it?"

He reached down and laid his hands on her womb. "My god…we…we are going to have a _baby._ "

She could not help the laugh that escaped her as she covered his hands with her own. " _Yes,_ dearest, we are going to have a baby! We have known this for some time now."

"And it is coming soon?"

"Relatively," she giggled, bringing his face to hers so she could kiss him. She was so much more secure, so much more relaxed when he was with her. Worry just seemed to fade into the back of her mind.

When he pulled back and met her eyes, his eyebrows were raised. "And we are in the middle of the woods, just as you had promised me you would not be."

She hesitated and sighed. "Yes, just as I promised.

"Ilúvatar has strange plans," he sighed. "How do you feel?"

Laughing at how normal he sounded now, tears came to her eyes once again for how grateful she was that he was here with her. "I could be better, but the pain is not so bad." She shook her head. "Beside all of that, it does not matter. You _must_ go and find Nardur and Arwen! He must be stopped, and she must be found."

"She will be all—"

"Legolas, you have not _seen_ her in the last three weeks! She is all but lost to us, and she will kill herself if left alone; I know it! You must help her! You—" Her breath cut off and she closed her eyes, another contraction briefly taking control.

He held her hands in his own. "What we must do is get you home," he replied softly. "I did not come into these woods alone…" He did not know what to tell her; now was not the time to explain all that had happened, all that he knew. "There were Gondorians with me who will find her _and_ stop him." There now…those words, at least, were not a lie.

"Oh, thank the One," she whispered, tears of relief springing to her eyes.

"Guin, did Nardur cause you to go into labor?" he asked her seriously.

"I…think it may have been my panic over Arwen…and running through these woods when I should not have been. There was nothing else I could do; I had to go after her. I was the only one here!"

"In bare feet?"

"I admit that was not the better of my ideas," she confessed, "but I could think of nothing but her. When I realized I was in labor after Nardur left, I was hopeless to do anything for her but pray. When I first saw him, I thought he was here to help; I was in such a panic I forgot who he had been, who he was. Knowing I…knowing I could not go after her was the most terrible feeling in the world. I had to turn back to the house. I think I am—"

"It is less than a mile," he murmured. "That way," he added, hooking his thumb over his right shoulder.

She smiled and stroked his face again. "How wonderful you never seem to get lost."

"I do not think it wise for you to walk that far."

"I do not think I am _capable_ of walking that far," she sighed. "Oh, Legolas, I am so grateful you are here and that I am not alone. I _prayed_ for help to come!"

"I heard you call me," he whispered, kissing her again. "It led me right to you. Give me a single moment, I will be right back." He released her and went directly to Glosbrethil where he began to un-cinch every piece of tack.

"Legolas, what are you doing?"

"Brethil is the fastest way to get you home," he replied, continuing to untack him.

"I am not getting on that horse, Legolas," she stated.

"You most definitely are, my dove." The order was disguised within the endearment, but she heard it nonetheless.

"I am… _filthy…_ " she muttered quite miserable, "and soaking wet, among other things." He could tell she was embarrassed. "I am in no condition to ride. And all of your _things!_ You cannot leave them out in the woods!"

He turned to her, leading Brethil away from all of his gear. "It is less than a mile; it can wait. You cannot. Time to get you up." He returned to her side and crouched down. "And Brethil is quite washable. He will not protest to carrying you when he knows the babe is to be born shortly." The grey tossed his head and snorted, standing perfectly still. "Come on, now."

She felt so uncomfortable about the situation, but she simply could not fight him. He helped her get to her feet and then he lifted her, setting her down side-saddle over the grey's back. He rested his hands on her knees as she blushed deeply, staring down into his earnest face.

"This is not a time to be self-conscious," he reminded her. "I love you, and I want you to be safe." He made sure she was holding the reins and then he vaulted onto the grey behind her. Slipping his arms around her tightly enough to hold her steady, he kissed her temple. "Are you balanced?"

"Yes, but I am…so _uncomfortable_ ," she whispered, almost panting as she leaned her shoulder into his chest. He held the reins in one hand, her back leaning against his arm, and his other hand settled across her belly.

"Shhhh," he whispered, rubbing her abdomen gently. "Everything is going to be fine. We are going to go home where you can rest comfortably. Just one more mile and everything will be all right."

Enguina looked over into his eyes and leaned her head against his neck as well, sighing. "Legolas, I do not know how everything is going to be all right, but I believe you," she whispered, "because you are with me now." She tilted her head and kissed him beneath the chin as she watched him smile.

"Come along, Brethil. Take us home."


	52. Chapter 52

Arwen's call came to Aragorn with no emotion aside from a blissful memory of warm, outstretched arms and his own grey eyes. He physically reached for her, but there was nothing in response and he could not touch her mind at all. But there was something not right; he could feel that she was not well. There was also, without a doubt, an underlying current of malice in these woods that he had never felt before. He knew in his heart that Nardur had found her; he simply _knew_ it.

Aragorn saw the black tied to the tree first, so he knew Nardur was very close. Brego had seen him as well so he gained a bit more speed, extending his trot and jostling Aragon's already painful hip. There was a flash of color between the trees, and then the woods opened up just enough for his heart to drop into his toes and his blood to curdle in his veins. Nardur stood over her, her body between his legs, his hands near her chest. It took Aragorn's brain a moment to process what he was seeing as the man yanked upward hard; there was a glint of silver and a spray of blood as he withdrew the knife from her shoulder with effort, Arwen's body sickeningly bucking up towards him until gravity pulled her body from the knife and she dropped back against the ground. Nardur raised the knife, and terror filled Aragorn. She was going to _die_ —she was going to die mere feet from him and he was going to watch it from the back of a horse!

He could not believe that Ilúvatar would have brought him this far from home, dragged him hundreds of miles all the way back here for her to die right before his eyes. He refused to believe it. Instead, he felt Brego twist beneath him to tear between two narrow trees and leap a fallen log as he heard himself shout at the top of his lungs.

" _No, Nardur! No!_ "

The man was so stunned by the shouting, at hearing the King's voice, that his head whipped up and as his gaze left her, he faltered; it gave Brego the half-second he needed to come on to him. The horse reared, lashing out with his front feet to strike the man in the shoulder with his hooves, throwing him from her body. Brego came down directly on either side of her, screaming like a wild animal, snorting and stomping and throwing his head. Aragorn dropped down from the bay, crumpling to one knee as his hip gave out, but catching himself with a hand before going all the way down. His hand landed on Arwen's calf, and he clutched her like a lifeline, suddenly gasping for breath as he turned his head to look at her face.

But he could not see anything past the bright blood flowing from the wound in her shoulder. Forgetting Nardur laying on the ground not even feet away, he hunched forward and crawled beneath Brego's belly, unclasping his cloak and bunching it up to press to the wound—it was all he had.

" _Arwen…Arwen…_ " he moaned, and he finally looked down into her face as he tried to stem the flow of blood. She was _lost_ in the tunic that hung on her frame; she had lost a huge amount of weight in a very short amount of time. The front of the tunic had been sliced open as well as her chest, a deep slash from collarbone to navel, straight down the center of her breasts. Near this terrible cut there were nail marks and bruising across her breasts and chest. Horrified, and filled with grief at the sight of her in such a condition, he leaned on her wound with his bad arm and with his good hand felt at her throat. Her heartbeat was so weak. " _What have you done?_ " he whispered, his breath catching in his horror at the thought of losing her.

"I would never have expected you."

The wary voice came from in front of him, and he lifted his head to see Nardur, holding his own shoulder where Brego had struck him. The horse was keeping a watchful eye on the councilman, and pawed the earth with one foot, threatening him—if he took a step toward them, Brego would attack the man again. How Aragorn knew that, he did not know, but with his own angry eyes fixed on Nardur, he moved the trembling hand from her throat and gently took the torn tunic over her breast, working to cover her nakedness.

"You did not _want_ me," Aragorn replied, his voice low and enraged. "You made sure, in _every_ possible way that I would not be here for your scheming…that I would do exactly as you hoped…as you expected."

"And you did," Nardur agreed, his voice a bit stronger, "except for this." Aragorn saw the glint of the bloody knife in his hand; he assumed it was to protect himself.

Aragorn's eyes trailed down the cut in her body, and he plied his fingers gently along her ribcage where he had also noticed serious bruising—broken, as suspected. His fingers trembled as he made a fist with them, but wanting to beat Nardur senseless when he was barely capable was not helping. Instead, he raised his eyes to the man again, his so dark, like storm clouds before a violent storm, and put more pressure on his cloak over the wound.

"What were you going to do to her?" he asked.

Nardur supposed direct was best. "Kill her," he replied, and he was amazed at how easy it was to say the words.

" _This was more than that, you lying rat,_ " Aragorn hissed.

"She made me angry," he stated, trying to think if he could get to his horse before the clearly wounded King could catch him. Would he even try with his wife in such a condition— _that_ was the question. "Gondor needs an heir! I have said it many times, to your _face!_ " he began to roar. "The Lady Erumar—"

"Do not even speak her name!" shouted Aragorn back at him. "What you have done to _her_ we shall not even speak of!"

" _She_ is the perfect choice for a wife, for a mother!" Nardur snarled. "Your _son's_ mother! I came here to finish the job so you would _have_ to choose Erumar instead. I never expected, _so_ soon after betraying her, that you would come here. But I knew if she were dead, you would _have_ to choose Erumar!"

" _Would I?_ " he growled, his voice lowering in fury. "What kind of fool do you think I am? I would lose the love of my existence and then fall into the arms of another simply because _you_ thought it should be so?"

"You would have made the right decision for Gondor!" Nardur shouted back. "You could have done nothing else but save Gondor. You are a man of sacrifice, Elessar. You would have."

"You are a _fool_ ," Aragorn snapped, pressing down on her wound again. He watched as Nardur glanced towards his horse again and he snatched a rock from the ground left handed and flung it at the man in his anger. " _Look at_ _me!_ " he shouted, grasping his undivided attention again. "You think you know what is best for this realm, yet you continue to place it in jeopardy by threatening me and my family. You have very neatly torn apart my life, a life I assume you must care enough about that you hoped to preserve it forever. What was it you told her? What was it you told her that made her doubt me? I saw the ring; she would _never_ have believed—"

Nardur laughed aloud. "Oh, it would not have worked had she seen it, but it worked enough for the _Prince_ to believe, and I knew he would _never_ give it to her. You did the rest of it yourself; I only told her what she knew already: that she was barren and could never provide for you, both of which are true. She completely, utterly believed that you had committed adultery against her. She _begged_ me to take her life. _Begged._ "

Aragorn wanted to heave, and then he wanted to destroy the man utterly. Taking his life just then would not have been a good enough punishment. But he could not release Arwen's wound to throttle him, so he held fast to her, praying for help to arrive. He met the councilman's eyes again. "Arwen is _not_ barren, she never was, and she is not now. I have _seen_ that child; that future is _not_ lost. You have forced me to bear all sort of trouble so that you could see whoever you see fit upon the throne."

"Not whoever," Nardur shouted, " _your son_! Is that too much to ask?"

"For her life, _yes_ ," Aragorn stressed, "far too much." Nardur spat on the ground as an insult to Arwen, but he continued. "And yet even in all your scheming, you had already failed, Nardur; even before this moment. You congratulated yourself on your great plan, your success, yet there was one thing you did not foresee: I did _not_ betray my wife. Ethring _failed_ ; I did not lie with Erumar, so your hopes are dashed, all your plans to 'save Gondor' end here. Instead, you will face trial with your comrade."

Nardur stared at him in disbelief. He would _never_ have imagined that anyone could conquer that drug. "How…how is that even possible? The plan was nearly perfect!"

"The drug worked as you intended, but the will of good is stronger than the will of evil, thank Ilúvatar." His eyes narrowed as he spoke, and he pressed down harder onto the wound in her shoulder. At least the bleeding had finally slowed. "You _lose_ , Nardur, as all evil plans and evil deeds always do, one way or another. You are finished."

Nardur's shock wore off quickly, and he shook his head. "No, no…even in my failures I am not finished. You cannot leave her, and I can escape rather quickly."

In a flash, he hurried to his horse and untied him, clambering unsteadily into the saddle—clearly, Brego had injured him when he had struck him with his feet. Brego was highly irritated at the moment, stamping and rearing as Aragorn watched him from Arwen's side. The man was right; he was in no condition to follow him, and he would never leave Arwen in such a condition.

"Easy, mellon nîn," he murmured to the bay, who squealed in disgust. His eyes were fixed on Nardur as he turned his horse away north.

"Farewell, Elessar," he sneered. "I hope that there are others within Gondor that will do what is necessary for the glory of Gondor preserved, not what is best for personal gain. I thought you would choose that as well, but it seems that you are not quite the King I thought you were." Aragorn made no move except to lower his eyes to Arwen's bruised face.

"My Lord!"

The words came from the east, and Nardur immediately spurred his horse and took off between the trees. Aragorn praised Ilúvatar for the timely arrival of Mennev and Hildanir. As they rode into view, he dropped to his butt on the ground beside Arwen, taking pressure from his hip.

"My god, what happened?!" shouted Hildanir, and Aragorn raised his head.

"Mennev, Nardur rode between those trees, straight north," he said, "can you track him and then return here to follow Arwen's trail to Legolas's home?" His gaze was pained. "Please tell me you do not need assistance, for I am desperate for Hildanir's aid." The younger man was already dismounting.

"My King," the Captain said with an easy grin, "it'd be my genuine pleasure." He spurred Dusday directly on the path where Nardur had disappeared. If he had to track him all night, he would see it done.

"What can I do?" Hildanir asked immediately, coming close to the King as he removed his cloak.

"She is terribly wounded," he said, "though I think I have stopped the bleeding. I only have the use of one arm, and it is difficult. Would you—" Hildanir leaned over behind him as Brego side-stepped off of her and he laid his cloak over her to cover her more modestly, but it was difficult not to notice the numerous scars, scrapes, and bruises she bore, or the blood from the deep cut seeping through the tunic front. He swallowed as he knelt down beside Aragorn, placing his hand over the wound.

"Did…did _my uncle_ do these things to her?" he asked Aragorn, and the man sighed softly.

"A few of them, yes…but not all," he replied. "Some of these she did herself out of pain, grief." He shook his head. "I do not know if you can understand…"

"I can," Hildanir said softly. "I do. I saw her, and you, after she had been poisoned. I know what it did to her in the past, and this would have been much worse."

"Much," Aragorn agreed. "We need to get her to Legolas's home, to warmth. Her heart is weak; she has lost so much blood—"

"And she is freezing cold," Hildanir added worriedly, touching her face. He slowly lifted the edge of the cloak that Aragorn had placed over the wound, nodding. "The bleeding here has stopped, but…if we move her without bandaging it, it will begin anew."

Aragorn nodded. "I will assist you," he stated, and Hildanir looked at him nervously. "Then you will have to lift her up into Brego's saddle and ride with her on the way to Legolas's home. She is in desperate need of healing."

There was anxiety in Hildanir's face. "Aragorn, can you not—"

"Hildanir, I am…weak," he replied. "As much as I would prefer to be the one to hold her, I am incapable of such a deed. I would have no other but Brego, and I would trust no other than you, if you will, to carry her, protect her."

He met the soldier's eyes, and in them he saw a reverence and devotion for Arwen's life that moved his heart. "I would be honored, my Lord," he replied softly, touching his hand to his chest.

" _Then go_ ," Aragorn said kindly, and Hildanir rose as he continued, "get the dressings you carry in your saddlebags. We have much to do now and little time."

As the young man hurried away, Aragorn looked back down into her face. Yes, the immediate need was to repair her physical wounds, but…the scars on her heart would be the worst to heal. Getting them all back into the saddle was going to be challenging, but it was necessary. There was nothing he could do alone but wait for Hildanir, so instead he prayed that Ilúvatar might give him just enough strength to heal her, just enough strength to call her back, just enough strength to save her life. She lived still, and she was in his arms; all he had to do was trust Ilúvatar now to keep her there.

* * *

Even though she was in labor, Enguina felt nothing but relief at being home again. She was sitting on the edge of a bed that was not hers; it had in fact, been Erumar's for too long, and it annoyed her that she was there to begin with, however, it was the best place, for if she were going to destroy sheets then this was the room to do it in. Legolas, true to his word, had brought her straight home, no concern at all about finding the location of the house; Legolas had always had an innate sense of direction. He was seated beside her at the moment, his hand on her leg; he had insisted on carrying her into the house which she could not refuse. After she had changed into something more comfortable, gotten her finger cared for, and had cleaned up, there he was trying to convince her to lie back, at least a _little_. She was still exhausted, and Legolas felt she should take it easy while she could. He was probably right.

When the little one inside her was finally ready to actually make his appearance, she would be wishing that she was more rested. She laid her hand over his and he watched and studied her face as she gave him a tight little smile.

"Another?" he asked, and one of his hands strayed to her belly where he felt the tightness of her muscles. Her eyes closed and she nodded as she let her breath out.

"They are not so bad…" she murmured. "They simply take me by surprise. I do not notice them building until they are already upon me." She began to relax a little, though that one—

"That was a little longer, was it not?" he asked solicitously. Enguina had to smile.

"Just a few seconds," she replied, lifting her other hand to squeeze his. "Not enough change to show the baby is any more ready than he was a few minutes ago." She gave him a little smile. "Do not worry; I am sure he is fine."

"I am not only concerned for him, my dove," he told her gently, rubbing her belly gently. "I am also concerned for you. I…do not much like watching the air leave your lungs."

She laughed softly. "I do not enjoy the feel of it either," she added, leaning over to press her lips to his cheek. "We are _both_ going to be fine."

Then he saw her lips draw to a line. "What is it?" he asked, and she frowned.

"I am worried about Arwen," she replied honestly.

"She is going to be fine as well. The Gondorians—"

"You did not _see_ her Legolas," she whispered. "You have no idea of her condition, and not only physical, but emotionally, mentally…she was a _mess_. The last few days…"

"Tell me," he said, and he silently prayed for Aragorn, for strength for all of them.

"Legolas, you would barely know her," she murmured, tears in her eyes. "I know it was bad when we left, but this was so much worse. Her clothes just…they simply _hung_ on her, as though they were three sizes too large. She could barely walk; her knees trembled so badly and her balance was off. The last few days she would hold the walls as she moved from room to room, exhausted by everything she was doing. She could hardly hold a conversation; she…she attempted to kill herself two nights ago…"

Legolas hugged her shoulders against his chest. "I cannot imagine what that must have been like for you. I am so sorry, Guin."

"It was my fault she was out running in the woods this morning," she murmured. "Last night, I was so worried about her that I locked her in the guest room. When I checked on her this morning, I was worried about leaving her in the house locked up, afraid to offend—as if that should have mattered! I unlocked the door…if I had not, she would have still been here."

"I should never have allowed you both to come out here alone," Legolas whispered, "to allow you to face this alone…"

"You wanted to have my hope," she whispered, her tears falling, "but there is none left. A few days ago, perhaps…but not now." She lifted her face to look into his eyes. "Maybe it is better this way…maybe she did the right thing. Perhaps it will be better if the men who went looking for her do not find her, if Nardur does not…" Her breath caught and she tried to prevent herself from sobbing. "To say goodbye…to say goodbye would be _impossible_ …"

"No, no," he said, holding her now against him fully. "Do not say things like that; we can save her…we will save her…"

"How?"

He shook his head, kissing the top of hers. "I do not know, but I know that we cannot help her if she is in the middle of the woods alone, so Eru-willing, they will find her. They must find her, before it is too late, if she is as unwell as you say." He felt her try to rein in her tears and felt her muscles tighten again; she clung to him, leaning her face into his neck. "Are you—"

"Fine," she said. "You will have to stop asking me that. It is only a contraction."

"It makes me edgy," he replied. "I do not know if I can stop asking."

"They will only get worse," she told him gently. "You need to get used to it. Erum—I was told by several people that they might go on for hours." She had almost mentioned _her_ , and she did not want to talk about her; even if they were in her room.

"That is why I was advising you to lie back and take some rest now, while you can. Perhaps the contractions, being so far apart still, may not wake you and you can sleep a little." He tilted his head and kissed the top of hers. "Come now, let me help you get comfortable on this bed."

"What if…what if Nardur returns?" she asked quietly. She felt every muscle of his that was touching her tighten.

"I will kill him myself," he told her flatly. And she felt just enough rage in him to know that he was not bluffing; the man had touched her, injured her with the intent to harm, and even if it was that she had been in labor before he had begun kicking her, as far as Legolas was concerned he was as much to blame for endangering the life of his child as Vändir had been. The man would not survive another encounter with Legolas.

Enguina closed her eyes. _Lord, please keep our baby healthy; help me to trust you for this, for everything—_

 _For Arwen, for her safety._ Legolas's voice continued in her head. _My Father, I pray for Guin, that you would give her strength for this and that you would bring our baby into the world whatever way you intend. Please, make her labor as easy as it can be—I was not made to see her in pain._

 _Bless my Legolas, please! He needs the strength even more than I do. Be beside him!_

She felt him lift her chin and kiss her gently. "Thank you. I love you," he told her, and she smiled.

"I know, and I love you, too. Thank you for joining in."

"I love it when we are close and I can hear your thoughts," he added. "I missed that. I never wanted to be parted from you again, and I was… _twice_ … _and_ during your pregnancy."

"Do not blame yourself," she replied, leaning into him again as she sighed. "Gimli would never have forgiven you, and…I truly thought it would have helped Arwen to be here. I will let you make me comfortable if you will get me something to eat afterwards. I am starving, and I am thirsty as well."

He laughed. "I think I can handle that."

* * *

The barn smelled like home when Brego walked into it, and Aragorn had never felt more relief at arriving in a place than he did just then. He dismounted almost immediately and did not bother trying to catch himself on anything but his left leg; his right was _done._ Dragging the nearly dead weight, he reached up to hold Arwen as Hildanir dismounted and then took her down himself into his arms.

Aragorn _ached_ to hold her, but there was nothing he could do; he had to trust his lieutenant to care for her at least until they were inside the house. Instead, he reached over and laid a hand on her throat again.

"She is weak," Hildanir said, his concern all over his face. "I cannot feel her heartbeat, and I am afraid she began bleeding again during the ride."

"Her heart is faint," Aragorn murmured. "We must get her inside where I can try to heal her; we are going to need hot water and bandages to clean these wounds thoroughly." Aragorn laid a hand on Brego's neck. "Mellon, Hildanir will come out for you both when Arwen is settled. Please, be patient." The bay snorted and nudged him—it was clear what he wanted. "Thank you."

"How are you making it to the house?" Hildanir, thankfully, was a strong man, seeming to carry Arwen without difficulty, but to hold up Aragorn as well? That would be impossible.

Aragorn gave him a ragged smile. "I shall endure. If I _do_ collapse on the way there, you be sure to get her inside and out of this cold first. If she gets ill now—"

"She will never survive," Hildanir agreed, nodding.

"You can come back for me later."

Hildanir rolled his eyes. "Ilúvatar, give me strength, and save me from the House of Telcontar. I do not know if _I_ can take more of the stress."

"I will need you, inside," Aragorn said seriously.

"I will do whatever I can," Hildanir said, holding Arwen more tightly. Aragorn nodded.

"I know you will."

* * *

The banging of the front door woke Enguina out of her hour-long restless sleep and made Legolas sit up straight as she grabbed his hand tightly.

"What was that?" she asked, and he winced as he got to his feet.

"Possibly the rest of our party," he admitted.

"Could they have brought Arwen back?" she asked, concern on her face as she gripped his hand. "You do not think it is Nardur, do you?"

He was concerned now. There was no way he could stop her from finding out about Aragorn, if it was him or Hildanir or Mennev. He had wanted all of this explanation to wait until _after_ the babe was born. This was not good; she did not need this.

"No," he replied. "No, I do not. But let me go and be sure the Gondorians know—"

" _Legolas!_ " called a voice from down the hallway. There could be no mistaking whose it was.

 _Damn._

Her nails dug into his hand and he lifted his eyes to hers as she stared at him in shock, her mouth gaping open. In a flash, that surprise turned to furious, uncontrollable anger.

"You did _not!_ " she cried out, her blood boiling under her skin as tears came to her eyes. "He is not here by _accident!_ "

"Enguina, wait—"

" _You_ brought him here," she snarled, "after all he has _done_?! _After committing adultery with Erumar, you let him into our_ _ **home**_?!" A contraction caught her by surprise and her breath left her in a rush as he covered her hand with his.

"Guin," he whispered, but the lowering of his voice did nothing to placate her.

" _Prince Legolas!_ " That was not Aragorn.

" _And you brought Hildanir?!_ " she gasped out.

"Take it easy," Legolas tried again. "Let me—"

" _Take it easy?!_ " she quoted him. "I cannot 'take it easy!' You have not seen your best friend try and take her own life with a butter knife from the table!" Tears fell from her eyes and she rubbed at them furiously. "How _could_ you! Did you see her at all when she was with us in Gondor? _Did you see what his leaving_ _ **did**_ _to her?_ "

"Enguina, you need to calm down," he murmured urgently. "Think of the baby."

"I _am_ ," she snapped. "I cannot _believe_ you brought those liars, those scheming _evil_ men into our home!" She winced as pain fired through her back. " _I am so_ _furiously angry with you!_ "

"If you would only let me explain—"

" _Legolas, help us! Please!_ "

It was desperation he heard in Aragorn's voice and he looked at Enguina with eyes that begged her forgiveness. "I have to leave you for a few minutes. I _have_ to."

"You are going to leave me for _him_?"

"Not for him, for _her_ , I think," he said, and she yanked her hands from his and turned her face away, trembling with anger.

" _Do not even speak to me_ ," he heard her spit out under her breath.

"Please, Guin…be reasonable." She did not answer, and he had no choice—he _had_ to leave her side. "Please, stay in bed. I will return in a moment; then I will…try to explain, I swear it."

He turned and darted down the hall, bursting into the sitting room in disarray and very nearly running into a soaking-wet Hildanir, Arwen in his arms. He cried out when he saw her, both filthy and bloody, wrapped in a cloak, her bare legs hanging over Hildanir's arm. Then he caught sight of a wet Aragorn leaning heavily against the table behind them.

"Ai, Elbereth!" Legolas called out. "My god, what happened to her?"

"I need somewhere to lie her down," Hildanir replied urgently. "She is wounded grievously and her heart weakens by the moment. _Please_ , Prince—"

"This way," he said and turned back into the hallway to the room Arwen had been in. "You can lay her here. What do you need? What can I do?"

Aragorn limped along directly behind them. "Athelas," the man replied, exhaustion in his voice. "Hot water. Bandages. Ointment for pain and healing, if you have something of the like."

As soon as Legolas stepped back to let Hildanir pass him, he turned back down the hall to the bath where he had brought water in for Enguina before, grasping some bandages along the way. He took it immediately back to the kitchen where he placed it in a kettle. As he waited for it to sing, he began searching for the herbs Aragorn had asked for. His hands began to tremble as he thought of how pale Arwen was, and he left the kitchen when all was ready to return to the room, stopping at the threshold as he watched, holding the bag of herbs and water.

Hildanir had shrugged off his cloak, he now stood beside Aragorn as the man sat on the right side of the bed beside Arwen. His eyes were averted as Aragorn carefully opened up her tunic; the light pouring into the room from the windows left nothing to be imagined, and Legolas, unlike Hildanir, could not tear his eyes away. Not only had she been injured by a knife, but the bruising across her breasts and ribs was unbelievable. And she was _terribly_ thin, just as Enguina had said, and so _pale_. Her skin was white against her wet, dark hair, and her body trembled as she lay there. He watched as Aragorn also looked away, but in grief at what had happened to her, at what had been done to her. But it was only for a second, and then one of his hands was on her throat again.

"Nardur—" Legolas began, but Hildanir interrupted him.

"Yes," he said, "my Uncle nearly killed her."

"She was already well on her way," Aragorn said softly, and by the set of his shoulders, Legolas could see how much that statement destroyed him.

"Mennev is hunting him down right now," Hildanir added with a snarl.

"The water is here," Legolas said gently, nodding to Hildanir. Aragorn's head came up and he looked to Hildanir first as the man moved to take the items from Legolas and set them on the nightstand nearby.

"You must cleanse these wounds, Hildanir," he said, "and reapply the bandages. I will be of little use to you, my healing faculties are needed elsewhere, for more grievous injuries. I am afraid…" He hesitated to speak the words aloud, and Hildanir and Legolas stared at him. "I fear that she fails by the moment; she is letting go of what little hold she has to this world. She is giving up."

"She is barely breathing," Legolas added.

"She cannot do that," said Hildanir suddenly. "You _must_ save her, my Lord!"

"I will give all I can," Aragorn said seriously, and Hildanir moved immediately to her side himself, shoving aside his embarrassment at her state of dress in the face of his determination to save her and began to remove the rest of the tunic around the wound in her shoulder. Aragorn lifted his eyes to Legolas then. "Tell me quickly of Enguina; I assume you found her. Is she well?"

" _Furious_ that you are here and that I allowed you to set foot in Ithilien without having every one of my kin fire arrows at your heart." Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and Legolas shrugged gently. "She may not have said all of those words entirely, but I know that she was thinking every last one. Her feelings of animosity extend towards Hildanir as well."

"Cheers," the man replied as he worked.

Aragorn attempted a smile. "I thought I heard her melodic voice."

Legolas snorted. "Yes, if you can melodically _shout_."

Aragorn spoke again as he began crushing athelas into the nearest bowl, the fragrance filling all the room, giving them all strength, "Had Nardur found her?"

"Yes," he said, and he cringed as Enguina's voice echoed in his mind as she called him softly. "She is in labor." Aragorn stared at him in surprise, and even Hildanir froze and turned to look at him. "From what she said, it appears that Nardur had a hand in it, though it was not only him. I think the stress of the whole situation with Arwen appears to have given her enough anxiety and her running about this morning in the woods did not help either. In fact, that wholly may be the reason," he admitted.

Aragorn truly did smile then. "I am so grateful to Ilúvatar for this."

Legolas looked taken aback. " _Grateful?_ She is early and—"

"I thought that I would entirely miss your child's birth. Now, I am here," he said softly. "I am thankful to him for providing a way for me to be here, even if—"

"The rest of the circumstances are awful?" interjected Hildanir.

"Yes," he continued in the same quiet voice.

"I…cannot be grateful," Legolas said, feeling as though he should have been running to Enguina's side. "I was not ready."

"No one ever is for these matters," he replied soothingly as Hildanir gently began cleaning the wound that split Arwen's chest. "Everything will be fine. Do not panic. How far along is she?"

"It might be four hours at best; the contractions remain several minutes apart. The last one was the strongest she has had yet." His voice was growing increasingly stressed and Aragorn knew he simply needed some encouragement.

"Are you encouraging her?"

"Yes."

"Then everything will be fine," he said gently. "Return to her side, Legolas; you have done all that you can for Arwen. Enguina will be in labor for some time yet, but she will likely want to push before she should be, most women do. Her body will do most of the work, but when the baby starts to crown you may need to help her. You are looking for enough width for the child to get his head through."

Legolas's eyes widened. "Push before…when the…crown…width?"

"Legolas, hear me," he said, his voice low and comforting as he closed his eyes with quiet patience. "If I had not said a word, if I had never shown up at all, you would have been fine and made it through this on your own. Your wife needs you now; this is no time to panic."

Legolas breathed out a sigh and seemed to come back to himself. "You are right, of course. I _do_ know what to look for; I remember your advice on the way. But…"

"He is going to be right here," Hildanir said, glancing up with a smirk at the elf. "You need not worry, Prince."

Aragorn truly smiled once more. "Where else would I be?"

Legolas watched him as Aragorn placed his hand over her heart. " _Heal_ her, Aragorn. Make all of this right."

"Pray, Legolas," he replied softly, "that it is Ilúvatar's will that she returns. Go back to Enguina."

The man turned his face back to Arwen and closed his eyes, bowing his head. Legolas watched Hildanir continue to clean her wounds for a moment, but then he turned himself and walked back down the hall. There was nothing he _could_ do but pray; he needed to be with his wife. He came into the room and went to her side where she was reaching out to him, a hand extended. He took and kissed it.

"I am glad you are back," she said, her voice tight with stress. "That last one…it hurt."

"Forgive me," he replied, holding her hand to his chest as he bent forward and kissed her forehead. "I should have come back more quickly."

"I am still angry with you," she stated, averting her eyes.

He attempted to flash her a smile, to tease her. "Is it difficult to be glad I have returned and angry with me at the same time?"

She glared at him. "Do not be so full of yourself that you think I am still not seething about what you have done."

His attempt at levity had clearly failed. He lowered his eyes with humility and squeezed her hand again. "I promise that there _is_ an explanation. I promise you that he is still the man we believed him—"

"She _felt_ him, Legolas," she repeated from before. " _She felt him_. I know what it would be like to feel that from _you_. It would destroy me! That cannot be faked; she was not tricked or fooled. She _felt_ him!" She stared at him. "He cast her aside and found another and yet you allowed him into our home, and…and let him _touch_ her. How _could_ you?"

"I promise," he whispered, "that it is not as it seems. I will tell you the truth about all of it, but…I think now you should be resting honestly."

"You should tell me now," she insisted. "I am already angry, and nothing can make that worse."

" _Guin_ ," he whispered again, leaning his forehead upon hers, "can you let it be for now? This does not make your labor any easier."

She shook her head. " _You_ are the one who allowed him inside our _home_ after—"

" _Arwen_ is here," he interrupted her gently. "Focus on _that_ , Enguina. That was what you wanted above all else, for her to be safe, yes?"

She wanted to explode at him. How could she be safe when she was with the men who betrayed her? She hotly began to ask the question just as Legolas's eyebrows rose. " _Fine_ ," she growled, "I will drop it. So the 'Gondorians' found her?"

"Yes, they brought her here from the woods."

He could see the stress take over her eyes, and it was not only from the labor. "How is she? Did they get to her in time? Did they find Nardur?"

"Arwen is unwell," Legolas said softly, "but that you already knew. Nardur was with her when they found her, but they were able to stop him in time. Mennev is still hunting the man as we speak."

"So they did not kill him." She scowled. "For what he has done—"

"There will be plenty of time for that, I am sure," Legolas said, laying a hand on her suddenly tightening belly. Her eyes closed and she held her breath. He smiled at her. "You are supposed to try and take deep breaths."

"Ugh… _you_ try that when a ten-pound child is trying to tear apart your insides," she wryly replied, but then sobered again. "Tell me about Arwen. You said she is unwell. Do you mean—"

"She is weak and tired," he said for the moment, knowing that she was going to holler at him when she discovered the truth. But he wanted her rested and she _needed_ to rest, not go running down the hall to a room where she did not belong. "She will…she will be well again."

Enguina scoffed at him, her eyes tight from the contraction. "Because _he_ has returned?"

Legolas lowered his eyes, dragging his hand gently along her belly during the contraction. "Yes," he replied softly, "and I praise Ilúvatar for it."

"What elaborate lies can the man tell this time that we will all believe?" she snorted, rolling her eyes. "He has so clearly woven them so fluently this time that even _you_ have fallen for them again!"

"When you understand all of the circumstances," he replied softly, "you shall be less judgmental and more forgiving." A stubborn, irritated expression appeared in her eyes. "Though," he added wryly, "that seems quite a feat with the way you are reacting. I _will_ tell all, once you are rested."

"I am not like you, Legolas," Enguina said sternly as he looked back into her face. "I do not forgive easily. Not after so _much_ hurt. She…Arwen has been in _such_ pain. I cannot forgive such a grievous offense." She looked at him pointedly. "Nor should _you_."

" _Resting_ , my Guin," he told her gently, bending forward to press his lips to her more relaxed womb. "Besides, I was asking him about _you_ ; I wanted to be sure I know what I am doing…in case I am very much alone during this delivery."

Enguina's expression suddenly darkened. "You asked…you asked _him_ about _me_?"

"Ar—"

"Do not say his name aloud," she warned. Legolas sighed, scooting closer to the top of the bed. He reached out, stroking his fingertips along her face, saying nothing. "Do not attempt to sway me, Legolas. I will not be so easily enticed to believe he has reformed."

"I asked him," he said, choosing to answer one of her earlier questions, "because he knows a thing or two about birthing babies."

"If he knows so much," she snapped, "why does he not have his own?"

Legolas met her eyes, staring at her, and she immediately regretted her words, thinking of Arwen's devastated face. Her head dropped back against the pillow; even if she _hated_ him, there was no cause for such a remark. "I am sorry," she added softly as she closed her eyes. "I should not have said that. It was wrong."

"Yes, it was," Legolas began, but she interrupted him.

"Yet I remain furiously angry about him, wrong or not," she added, and then he felt her knees tighten suddenly against his hip as she winced in pain with a gasp. "Ooo…that… _hurts._ " She was gripping his hand as an anchor, and when her hand finally began to loosen he stared down at her.

"Guin…I hate this," he told her bluntly.

A burst of laughter came from her mouth. "Dearest, it is not fun for me either. But…this is nothing. When we hold out son, it will be nothing next to the joy we feel."

He nodded, but his eyes still held his concern. "Can I get you anything at all to make this easier?"

"Your presence is enough," she replied, squeezing his hand again, though this time just because.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I love you. Close your eyes again and try to rest a bit more. It has been a long day, and the baby is not ready yet." When he leaned back, he saw she already had her eyes closed. "I will not leave your side."

"I would not mind you skipping out for just a moment to be sure Arwen is all right," she said honestly. "I do not trust her alone with anyone, especially—"

"Yes, yes. I promise I shall know more about her condition when you wake. Now hush," he teased, and a little smile appeared on her face in spite of the order. "I promise that all was simply not as it seemed."

"You keep saying that," she replied, her voice dry and tired, "but I need more to believe it."

"You shall have it," he promised again. "When there is need to focus on that and not staying rested for delivering a child."


	53. Chapter 53

Aragorn gently stroked Arwen's face, listening to the sound of Hildanir's retreating steps. The young man had been an incredible help; his aid certainly better than battlefield dressings, or as it would have been without him, nothing at all. He had taken all the soiled linens out of the room with him, leaving Aragorn alone with his beloved. The wound along her chest had been deeper than he had originally thought, and all of Hildanir's work would be for naught if Aragorn could not find a way to keep her pulse steady and sure once more. Her breathing was even shallower than before.

It was clear to him that if he had not arrived when he had, Nardur would have murdered her there between the trees. Aside from the now-packed wound in her shoulder, his fingers traced the slit across her throat and then the white strip of bandage that lay covering the stripe between her breasts, following all the way to her navel and then gently out across her broken ribs, which were now dark with bruising. Yes, the evil man's handiwork was evident everywhere, and not simply from his knife or his hands. Looking down upon her he knew very well that the last month had taken such a toll on her body that it might very well be impossible for her to recover; for the despicable man to have so used his words to twist her trust in him… A foul taste flooded his mouth at the very thought; Nardur was an appalling creature. To have done something like this to them, and then to have threatened Enguina's life and that of her child as well…the man would _suffer_ when returned to Gondor in Mennev's custody. Certainly not in his own—an accident might occur to the scheming man if he was around him for more than a few moments.

But focusing on the task at hand was far more important than any thought of Nardur. Aragorn weakly lifted his hand and settled it very gently over Arwen's skin, this time over her fluttering heart. He had felt it faint like this before, when he had called her back from death by the poison of Calendur and his scheme. But even this… _this_ was different. Arwen, at that time, had a reason to reach back to him, to find him…to _want_ him. She had told him then that she had felt him calling her, that her spirit had clung to him as a lifeline in an ocean-like abyss. How was he to reach her now, when she had closed herself off from him, horrified at the thought of touching him for even a moment?

He took one of her hands in his, the muscles in his shoulder and arm nearly shouting in protestation; he ignored them as his fingers rubbed back and forth along her wedding band. He closed his eyes and brought her fingers to his lips and held it there, _reaching_ to her. Even though she was inches from him, he felt it was miles. Her presence was fluttering about like her heart, like a caged bird attempting to be free. Before he could heal her in any way, he had to make her strong enough to sustain herself, to keep breathing, for her heart to keep beating. He made his presence as a hand, stroking the little bird of her presence and reassuring it…things could be all right again.

 _Do not flee._

Scattered, slowing, were her heartbeats. Fleeing it was; fluttering about against the walls of its prison. He pursued it, though reservedly. He did not wish to frighten, but to comfort, to encourage…to return its hope.

 _Beloved…come back to me._ Every reassurance he could send through the bond was sent. He had no idea how to show her honesty when he could not feel her; he had no idea how to reach her in the darkness.

 _Aragorn?_

A burst of suffering so intense that Aragorn grunted and rocked back from her, every muscle in his body tensing though his hand still held hers, still rested against her heart. She _had_ reached back to him—if only for a moment—but she _had_ reached back! Hope came to him, even when her despair was unfathomable, tearing at his heart.

 _Go…let me go…_

His heart broke anew at such a command from her; even if it had been said with words so wispy and thin it was as a breeze in his mind, the physical force of the mental shove that came with it was not nearly so weak. The agony flooded into him through their connection and this time he cried out.

 _I cannot let you!_ He cried brokenly through the bond.

 _Let me go…let me die!_

Again, the voice soft as death, but her agony was as a hundred knives straight into his chest. She was begging for permission to die, to leave him forever. There was nothing left of his heart, so there was nothing left to do but beg and plead and struggle with her.

 _You cannot go!_ He begged her fervently, sweat now pouring from his brow with the strain of _reaching_ to her and holding her there, keeping her with him, making her heart continue to beat. _You must live! You cannot simply give up!_ He could feel the desperation within her to leave and never come back. _No, you cannot leave! You cannot leave me!_

 _Why?_

Time passed…who knew how long? His words and her reply repeated themselves over and over again as he reached out, desperate to save her, unable to let her go.

 _Because I am here…because I love you! Stay with me!_

* * *

Standing at the threshold to the guestroom, Legolas met Hildanir's eyes.

"It has been nearly five hours," he said softly, and the young man nodded.

"Neither has moved," Hildanir said softly. "How he has not collapsed from exhaustion, I will never understand. I thought…a little over an hour ago…I thought her spirit had left her." He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "Yet, she breathes still."

"How can you tell?" the elf asked. Looking at the two of them, Aragorn's back to him, he could not see the rise and fall of Arwen's chest. All he could see was Aragorn's hand remaining on her chest and his head bent down over her hand, brow pressed to it. This was the fifth time he had returned, and it was the fifth time he would return to Enguina with no more news than before.

"If you look closely, carefully enough," Hildanir muttered, "you can see." He rubbed his hand across his eyes and face. "This might be worse than watching him lying there suffering after the warg attack. At least at that moment, I believed he would live."

The words were so softly spoken that Legolas's throat tightened. "Have faith, Hildanir. I cannot believe Ilúvatar would bring us here in time for him to stop Nardur, and yet be unable to have her return fully."

Hildanir turned and looked directly at him. "Do you think he can save her?"

"I think that Ilúvatar can save her, if that is His will," Legolas replied softly. "He will work through Aragorn. We must believe that everything shall come right again. _I_ must believe it." He added the last more for himself, Hildanir noticed.

"This waiting is interminable. I can barely think straight. And," he added, shaking his head again, "I cannot stop thinking of Mennev, out there in the woods hunting down Nardur. I thought for certain he would have returned by now."

Legolas nodded. "Yes, I would have thought so as well. But perhaps he tied him to a tree and decided to make camp for the evening after catching him. It has been a long and arduous day. It is nearly time for supper. I am going to prepare a simple stew for Enguina; would you like some?"

"I think I need to rest," he replied honestly.

"There is another—"

"No, no," he replied. "I cannot leave my Lord. And I should be ready to prepare a better treatment for my Lady's wounds; it is nearly time to change them."

"I will leave the soup on; that way if you grow hungry or if Aragorn…wakes, you can take some food." Legolas took a step towards the door but then paused when he heard muttering.

" _Do not go…you have to live…_ " The words were Aragorn's. " _You cannot leave me…_ "

There was no way that the unconscious Arwen heard a word that Aragorn spoke aloud, and there was no sign that the man was even aware that he had spoken aloud, but his voice was desperate, pleading, and painful. There was sweat upon his face; this was a struggle for her life, no easy task. Arwen clearly had never intended to survive the fight with Nardur. Even looking down on her now, he could see how thin, how weak she had become. It was no wonder that Enguina could hardly bear it. Enguina…dear Enguina, still in labor, contractions growing stronger and longer, but still not ready yet. She was tired, stressed, in pain…and _hungry._ He needed to return to her side with food.

"If she…if she dies," Hildanir whispered, drawing his attention again, "what will happen to him?"

Legolas studied the pair on the bed. "I do not even want to think it, Hildanir. Pray that it will not come to that." He touched the man's elbow. "I go to the kitchen, but call for me if there is any sign or any change. Take some rest."

* * *

Exhaustion was the most extreme word Aragorn could use to describe what he felt when he finally dragged his hand from Arwen's heart and it was too inexpressive a word. He was light-headed, dehydrated, sick; his whole body was trembling. Forcing his hand to reach out and wrap around a nearby cup of water and carefully drink some was not something his body wanted him to do. He stared down at her, his other hand lowering hers to her chest, painfully slow as he was so cramped from being in such a position. Even the room was hot and uncomfortable; he was sweating and trembling, and his body ached with the amount of strain he had put it through.

He set down the cup and bowed his head to his hand. When he had drawn her back from the edge those few short years ago, he had not _fought_ her, as he had just done, been completely against her will. No, this was a new feeling. It _terrified_ him. She had no desire to come back to him; she had fought him every step of the way, at every turn. And because of that battle, though he had drawn her back from the edge of death, Arwen went completely unhealed as she had been when they drew her in from the woods.

Arwen was awake, though Aragorn did not know it at the moment. She lay perfectly still; she did not open her eyes or breathe differently so she would not give herself away. She was too weak to have ever lifted a hand or her head, and in so much pain lying there that she was amazed to find those reasons paled in comparison to the true reason she had not yet moved. _He_ had brought her back. _He_ was here, at her side…where she had never thought him to be again. Despite her best efforts, he had pulled her once again up from the depths and revived her. _Why?_ She had been gone nearly three times and still he had struggled to yank her out of the pit. _WHY?_ He had told her—but her heart scoffed; she could not believe such words. Not spoken from lips such as his. There was no response to be had but disbelief and denial! He had _left_ her, abandoned her, and then come to call her back? What did he expect?

She breathed in shallowly, and out. She could never look at him; how could she open her eyes? She did not have the strength to speak; what would she say? There was nothing that would change what had happened. Hearing his voice would bring her such pain that she would break into fits of weeping. But perhaps she could survive here for another moment longer if all of her senses ignored him. She could hear nothing; her eyes were closed; all she felt was pain; her tongue was as dry as wood…but her sense of smell…that she could not deny.

There was nothing she could do to prevent his scent. Having been completely unable to be in the King's House since the moment Enguina had drawn her out of her despair-induced stupor, his scent was unmistakable and…intoxicating—like a drug, straight to her mind. She _knew_ that scent, as it invaded her mind—his hair wet from rain or snow, his clothes bearing the scent of horses and leather and sun from days of traveling, even his sweat after working so long and hard—she _knew_ him and his body far too well. It brought her such despair in that moment that she realized she was silently weeping. If she had been thinking instead of reacting, thinking of having to face him now that she had survived the ordeal with Nardur, she perhaps would have been angry or furious at his scent. Instead, it crushed her as tears poured down her face for everything that had been, and everything that would never be again.

Aragorn, with his head bowed, did not know that she was awake until she gasped for breath beneath his hand. This would be the single most difficult moment of the near-hundred years he had spent in Middle-Earth. He had seen her upset, grieving, distraught, in pain…but never like this, and never for something _he_ had done. His absence had caused this; that and his belief in the inherent good in people, even in the likes of Nardur. He stared at her tear-streaked face; seeing her weeping because of him caused him great pain. He needed to act. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he brushed his fingertips against her cheek. She flinched and tried to yank away from that slight touch as she began to cry even more intensely.

" _No_ …" she moaned, which rose into a cry as his fingers continued. " _No, don't touch me!_ "

He wanted desperately to obey her command, to grant her time to accept, but it was physically impossible. He could not have her inches from him and not touch her, not reach out to her. His thoughts went to her then, begging, pleading with her to respond.

 _Please…please, do not turn from me…please, will you—_

 _ **Stop talking, please!**_ Her voice screamed in his mind. _I cannot bear it!_

 _Arw—_

 _Please, Ilúvatar, do not speak my name!_

His breath caught at her prayer, and he reached forward with both hands and gripped the hand he held. She was too weak to pull away, even though she tried very hard. Her chest and ribs were on fire as the tension increased, and so she had to let him hold them. And then suddenly his cracked lips were pressing against her ruined fingers and she wanted to cut them from her body—

 _Oh God, I never want to feel again!_

—no, she wanted to press them against his lips _herself_. She was so terribly torn between despising him for what he had done and loving him, but she could only see his hands on Erumar in her mind. She had to close her mind to him again; she was tortured by the very thought of him, tortured by the love he had given and taken away. It made her want to beg for death all over again.

But the closing of her mind to him was too much for his heart to bear; he needed her so desperately that his whole body ached with the absence of her presence. He cried aloud in anguish, " _No, do not leave me! Please, Arwen! Arwen, I beg you!_ " His hands were grasping hers, clutching at the last strands that bound them. " _Please,_ what you felt was not real! I am so sorry! _So sorry…_ "

He rested his brow upon her fingers, his agony as real as hers. He could not ask her forgiveness…not yet, not now…not when she barely heard or understood the words he spoke. But she felt his grief pouring through the part of her that was him, the distress flowing through her that rivaled her own. She was desperate for it to end, to funnel it out of her heart and head somehow, but there was no way to do it. No matter how she tried to deny him, she was too weak to keep her barriers up; every wall was coming down. Her hands _burned_ as they were caught in his. She could not look at him, feeling his head on her hands, his tears falling thick against bare skin. He was _right there_ …close enough to touch him on her own, close enough to look in his face…to see his eyes. Her trembling worsened with the emotions inside her. Her entire being _hurt_.

"Wh…What…" she stammered between her own harsh sobs, trying to force words out of her lips. " _What do you want from me?_ " she cried out, and without realizing she was doing it, fixed her eyes on the top of his head, staring blindly through her pain-filled haze. " _You…you…_ " _You have done this! You…you have…_

" _Please…_ " he begged her, " _just listen for one moment…_ "

She wanted to tell him she could not; she wanted to tell him that one more moment of hearing his voice, one more word from his lips and it would break her. She would simply shatter into a thousand pieces. She said nothing.

Instead, her voice resounded in his head, agonized and heartbroken. _You have done this to me! You have destroyed my heart!_ _ **You…**_ _and…_ _ **her…**_ Even thinking her name made her want to heave.

"No, no…no!" he cried, his hands reflexively clutching hers as he broke down. _No, it was not real!_

"It _was_ real!" she wept aloud. " _I felt it! I know what you felt with her!_ "

He raised his head, and she could not close her eyes fast enough to avoid his. Even through blurry tears, they pierced her, and her wrist shouted in pain as he brought her hands to his heart, clenching them tightly to his chest. " _Touch my heart, Arwen—_ "

" _No!_ " she cried, violently shaking her head.

"Touch me," he whispered brokenly, though fervently. " _See the truth in me, I beg you!_ Reach into my heart and see the truth! I have only ever loved you. Er—" His throat caught on her name; he could not say it either. " _We have nothing! There is nothing; there never will be anything, anyone but you!_ I swore it, when we wed…I swore it before I departed Minas Tirith. _Nothing has changed, beloved!_ "

She gasped, turning away from him in pain at the name he spoke. " _Do not…_ "

"I am still yours…yours alone…as I have ever been. My heart is only yours. I love you—"

"Do not speak the words! _Do not speak_!" Her voice was nearly a screech in her agony; he obeyed, but instead his voice echoed in her head.

 _Please, Arwen…can you not trust me one last time? Trust me enough to touch my heart…_

She gasped a sob, wanting desperately to believe his words, wanting to pull away and scream, rage, and fling herself at him for all of the terror and despair she had been through. How dare he ask her to trust him? How dare he touch her with his adulterous hands? How could he say such things when it was clear how untrue they were? She should be angry, _furious…_ lunging at him and clawing his eyes out, not weeping as a love-sick dog!

But no…no matter what she felt in her head, her heart had no choice but to be compelled to listen to his words. She had no choice in the matter, really; the opening of her heart, her mind, the link they shared…and the moment opened the eyes of her heart and she _saw_. She saw within him what he had been trying to say aloud; she saw his despair at the possibility of losing her, saw what had truly happened with Erumar, his grief over wronging her terribly even when he was not in control, Nardur admitting the truth…all that had been done to her, plotted and schemed. The thoughts flew from his mind to hers, and from her mind to his.

She laid still for what seemed an eternity, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to do anything but remain in awe at the truth set before her that, slowly over this few moments of eternity, began piecing back together the shattered parts of her broken heart. He loved her. _He loved her_. He believed in her, in them; her love _did_ mean, and still meant, everything to him in a way that left her utterly breathless. And when she could finally breathe again, it was with a gasp and a stabbing pain through her chest as her walls fell apart and any divide between his heart and hers broke down and crumbled. She threw her heart into his, pouring herself out and into him in a display of fervent belief and wondrous joy that she had never thought possible ever again. Disbelief and relief flowed through her, adrenaline now, not pain, causing her body to tremble more fiercely than it had before, shaking the bed, her teeth chattering, tears forming in her eyes and spilling over.

" _Aragorn…_ "

It was the first time she had said his name in nearly two months. If she had been able to move, she would have every part of herself literally wrapped around him; as it was, she was so weak she could barely move her fingers. She forced them to move within his hands, the very tips of her fingers brushing the edges of his dark hair, her eyes open in wonder and remembrance and awe.

" _You…you still_ …"

" _Love you,_ " he whispered passionately, his voice hoarse as he felt what she was feeling, swallowing hard so he could speak. " _Yes, I still love you. I have always loved you, and you alone._ " He wept, and then, leaning down, released her hands to cup her face so very gently. This time, she did not flinch, but stared into his grey eyes as she wept for the joy of being with him again, and having it be real and true. His love kept washing over her as he stroked her face with his fingertips, brushing away tears. Eyes closing in absolute bliss at his touch, she felt as though she was feeling everything again, as though it was the first time he had ever touched her.

"I love you," he whispered again, his breath caressing her face. "I love you more than you are capable of imagining. I thought…I thought I had lost you forever…" He lost his voice for a moment, the words choking off in his agony. "…what happened…what was done to us…"

" _Oh…Ilúvatar…I love you…_ " The words came out, but they were the last ones she could speak, her breath coming out in short gasps. Her ruined fingers that lay against her stomach reached up and brushed against his tunic; slowly they wound into the fabric. His weight was leaning a bit on her as he came to her face, pressing his lips to her forehead, her eyebrows, her eyelids, her cheekbones, and her chin, making their way slowly around her face. She was so overcome by the feel and the smell of him this close to her that she paid no attention to any thought of pain, or any care about why any of this had happened. He was _here_ … _and he was hers._ His lips gently touched hers and there was nothing in her mind but him.

" _Arwen…Arwen…_ " He murmured her name into her mouth, and then he rested his forehead against hers. They remained that way for some time, simply whispering into each other's mouths and minds, his thumbs continuing to wipe away the tears on her face. Her mind was reeling, trying to comprehend what had just happened between them, but there was no way to reconcile; it was too much. Her mind was too full of him and the truth that he yet loved her so.

But he knew both of them were unwell. As much as he wanted to hold her so tightly and continue to kiss her a hundred times, he knew that she needed to rest…and so did he. He was barely supporting himself; his hip was shouting, his arm was dead, and if he put any more weight upon her, he might truly cause her pain. Her wounds, such as they were, needed healing; but he was physically unable to do that now. Her face was warm; perhaps her wounds needed tending to now…but again, that was something he was incapable of doing. What he _should_ do was wake Hildanir, but he could not bear to share her with anyone else at the moment.

"You…you are feverish," he whispered gently. He attempted to sit back, but her fingers tightened on his tunic and he paused instead.

" _No,_ " she very nearly whimpered, but with urgency. "No, do not go _._ Lie here, beside me; you are exhausted, too _._ "

" _Arwen…you need healing…_ "

"I _am_ healed," she whispered back. " _Please…please…_ " She was begging him, and he could not refuse her. With extreme difficulty and more than a few moments where he could hardly breathe for agony, he finally worked his way to stretch out at her side, his hand upon her face, their foreheads touching. She was nothing if not right: he was absolutely exhausted—exhausted from fighting for her life, for riding for so long and so hard, and for living in the terror of the possibility of losing her for the last month. Being here, being this close to her, to be able to touch his face to hers as it had been so long since he had been able to _touch_ her…there was soon nothing else in his mind but her.

" _Oh…_ " she gasped suddenly, more tears coming to her eyes even though hers were tightly closed, " _oh…how I have missed you…_ "

Words could never express what he felt in that moment, but most especially for her.


	54. Chapter 54

Author's Note: Thanks, Rubberkidney! You crack me up! :O) And finally, the OTHER moment we've all been waiting for!

* * *

Legolas stood at the door of the guestroom, staring over at the stretched-out forms of Arwen and Aragorn, side-by-side, brows pressed together. Her color was obviously better, but still she was clearly wounded, as was he. They would both need time to heal from the ordeal, the separation, they had suffered. If Ilúvatar was gracious to them, he would allow them time to recover, and for Enguina to forgive. But there would be time for that, and time for the many faces that healing would take.

He had left them alone for several hours after there had been no change, but Enguina had sent him to check on them after waking from a very uncomfortable sleep. Legolas was surviving, but only just. He was so concerned for Enguina that every nerve in his body was fried and his brain was mush, as if it had been squashed by a cave troll. If _he_ was exhausted, he knew his wife, who had been struggling in labor for hours, was many times more so. The contractions were longer, closer together, causing him to remind her to breathe far too much. He felt that their baby should be joining them soon and that she would soon be pushing, but he also thought that she was in enough pain and he had no idea what to do to help her.

 _Legolas…_

A grunt followed by a groan from down the hall brought him back to the present and sent him hurrying back to their bedroom.

"Guin?" he requested softly as he entered, reaching out to take her hand from the bed. She shook her head, clearly not breathing, one hand pressed to her womb, her head squashing the pillows as she strained silently. " _Moina,_ you need to breathe," he reminded her gently, rubbing one hand along her belly. The other found her hand clenching the sheets and he slipped his hand inside where she immediately clung to it so fiercely her nails speared his palm. She slowly tried to let out the breath she had been holding, but it was clear she was in pain. "Remember?" he asked, an anxious knot forming in his throat when she did not respond. "Enguina?"

She nodded finally, releasing what was left of the breath, nearly panting. He looked up into her face to see her gnawing on her lower lip. "Lord…that was unpleasant…thank you for coming back…so quickly…"

"A tough contraction?"

"Longer…" she muttered, "and stronger…" She tried to relax a little more, shifting her shoulders and her weight side to side on the bed. "Tell me about Arwen."

The hand rubbing her belly took her other hand as well. "Are you sure you are all right?"

She ignored him stubbornly. "Arwen," she stated.

He sighed, but acquiesced. "Her color is returning; she is not so pale as she was. She is resting peacefully, finally, I think."

"So she _is_ doing better then."

"From what I can see," he agreed, his voice hopeful. "I am fairly certain she will make a full recovery. It is difficult to explain, but…I feel that the atmosphere in the room is not as desperate as it was before. Perhaps she has decided not to die." He said the last words softly. "I _hope_ she has."

Enguina's eyes narrowed. "If that is because of _him_ —" Her words cut off as she winced, her nails gripping his hands as she strained, her chin coming down towards her chest as her hips twisted in her pain. He held her hands more tightly.

"Breathe, Guin," he whispered, but as she tried to do as he asked she cried out loud. It was several moments before she could regain control and then she dropped her head back to the pillow again, even more drained and exhausted than she had been moments before. The urge to push the baby went away for a few seconds—it was the first time she had felt something like that, as though she had _needed_ to push.

"Oh… _Eru…_ " she whispered. _Is this it?_

Legolas leaned into her, concern flooding his face. "Guin, is everything all right? 'Is it' what?"

She shook her head, trying to calm her breathing and force herself to speak in his calm tones. Even though she knew he was anxious, his voice was steady. "Legolas," she murmured, though her voice was strained, "I think our baby may be ready to join us."

 _Really?_ His eyes widened. "Are you certain?"

Enguina suddenly groaned through clenched teeth. "Yes, I truly do. I…feel heavy…stretched out, like I…am ready to split at the seams." She was breathing more heavily now, and Legolas sat up straighter. "I am so uncomfortable that I want to stand, but…I think my legs would give out. I am so…weary." Her eyes closed and she felt him mentally caress her and draw his hand across her cheek. "Everything _hurts._ "

"I will give you such a massage when you have birthed our child," he whispered. "Focus on that." She tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace as sweat broke out on her forehead. She struggled against the pain and then, clenching her teeth again with her eyes closed, rode it out until it faded just a bit.

"Legolas, this baby is…definitely coming."

His mind went into full-fledged panic mode for a moment before he regained his wits. Laying his hand on her face and squeezing her other hand, he bent over to kiss her forehead. "What can I do?"

She strained out a laugh through her pain. "You need to check on the baby." _Oh, please, Lord, let me be ready for this! Let everything be all right! I am so_ tired… _give me the strength!_

Legolas released her and ran a reassuring hand down to her knee as he rose to check on the child. It felt good to know that he was right there, right where she needed him. If her contractions were this strong, he knew that he needed to be ready for anything.

" _Guin!_ "

At the sound of her name in such a tone, she startled and then panicked, her heart skipping several beats as her eyes popped open to see his face. " _What?_ _ **What**_ _, Legolas?!_ "

"I can _see_ him!" he exclaimed with wonder. He lifted his face with his eyes shining, one of his hands on her thigh, the other on her knee. Her eyes closed for a moment, preventing her from yelling at him for scaring her so terribly. "I think you can start to push, love," he added. "Are you ready?"

She grimaced, pressure building within her, and he reached forward suddenly to clasp her hand. Her face shown with sweat now and she began to breathe a little more heavily, trying to get ready. "As ready…as I can be…"

"I adore you," he said fervently, his eyes shining with love as his voice broke. _You are going to be the most amazing mother! You can do this! You were made to do this, moina quen!_

"I love you," she whispered, staring back at him.

"Hold my hand," he whispered back, and she gripped it, her eyes locked on his until the contraction began. Then, she _pushed_ , her every muscle taut, teeth clenched. A moment later there was a break in the contraction, a moment to catch her breath. "You are doing fine…you can do this, _moina_."

 _You can do this_. Legolas's words echoed in her head over and over. She took a few deep breaths and then lifted her shoulders from the bed, bracing herself on her elbows as she clenched his hand tightly. _You can do this, my Guin!_ She pushed again, this time flexing her neck back and shoving with everything she possibly had to give. Enguina cried out, feeling Legolas squeeze her hand, but that was nothing compared to the pressure inside herself.

"He is coming, Guin! You are doing so well, my love…"

She could not speak to him; she wanted to see what he was seeing, wanted to feel his joy. Another pain, another push, another cry.

"I can see the top of his head!" came Legolas's mystified voice. It was bloody, covered with fluid, but he was beautiful. _Guin, he is so gorgeous!_

She smiled, breathless. "Just like you," she whispered, her hand still clutching his. She groaned and arched her back and neck again, pushing hard as he coached her through another.

"You can do this! Push; push now, Guin! Good! You are doing so well. Oh heaven, Enguina, I can see his eyebrows…Ilúvatar, he is so beautiful!"

"Who…who does he look like?" she laughed, gasping in his awe. She tilted her head up to see her husband, but he could not look at her, so transfixed by the life he was seeing as it came into the world. He shook his head, unable to answer; Ilúvatar had made him a father, her a mother, them a family. Another push, another cry. Legolas reached down and let the top of the babe's head rest in his hand, his breath stolen away. Babies might be born every day, but not his; he was so moved he could not stop thanking the Lord of Heaven for this little one.

"One more push, my love…one more…and we will see his face…"

Another contraction, and with it Enguina cried out harshly, her nails piercing the sheets and Legolas's hand; she found herself unable to push and instead her hips nearly writhed off the bed. A spasm of pain went through her abdomen and back, but when the contraction stopped, the pain did not. It felt as though pressure was so built up inside her it was fighting to be released.

"L…Legolas…" she panted, and his hand squeezed hers.

"One more, Guin…you can do this…"

"I…I cannot…" she groaned, shifting her hips, desperate to relieve the pain.

Legolas lifted his head, hearing Aragorn's voice from their ride. _Once the babe crowns, his head will be birthed in a matter of minutes, no more than a few pushes. You should see the full head for a few minutes; after the shoulders appear, the baby will only take moments, perhaps two or three contractions. The baby, once birthing has begun, should only take minutes to arrive._

Another contraction built in a wave and rolled over her, and she felt as though she might explode from the pressure within her; pain seized her pelvis tightly, wrapping around her lower back. She cried aloud, rocking left and right without control. " _Legolas!_ " she struggled out, tears on her face. "God, it _hurts_! I _cannot_ push!"

Her nails were knives as they stabbed his hand and he finally lifted his head to see her face. She was white as the pillow beneath her head, every muscle taut in her neck, sweat and tears dripping down her face with the pain in her womb. Her head thrashed as her body told her to push, but she had no choice but to restrain the urge. _Legolas, something is wrong!_

Legolas looked back down to the babe's head, his face still mostly within her. This was supposed to be fairly easy according to Aragorn…a few minutes, he had said. This was too long, and Enguina's pain was suddenly stabbing him in the chest.

"Guin…hold on," he said, tightening his hand on hers. Something _was_ going wrong, he could feel it in his bones as another painful contraction came and the babe did not move a smidge. He tried to let go of her hand so he could give the babe a small tug, but Enguina could not let him go. She was gasping in pain, groaning his name. With her small gasps of pain, he could do nothing else. He turned his head away from her and yelled with all his might.

" _Aragorn!_ " His voice carried in the silent house, loud enough to echo from the walls.

" _What?_ " she huffed out, fury transforming her features. " _Why would you—_ " Agony threatened to tear her apart as she writhed suddenly on the bed, unable to prevent herself, unable to breathe.

"I think the baby is trapped!" he cried, his voice rising even as he was desperate to control his own panic. _Where IS he?_ " _ARAGORN!_ "

Another second passed and the elf finally heard heavy thumps in the hallway. He turned, calm coming over him in expectation to see his friend enter with every answer, with a ready smile and a firm but easy solution on his lips. Instead, his eyes took in the man's haggard appearance as he limped inside, exhaustion clear in his bowed shoulders, one hand gripping the threshold that supported him. But Legolas could not talk to him about anything that did not concern his wife; he could not spare the thought.

"Something is wrong," he said desperately, his face full of anxiety. "She is in terrible pain!"

"She is in labor," Aragorn replied dryly, but he came as quickly as his body would allow to the side of the bed even as she writhed again, barely noticing that he had entered, crying out in agony. Concerned, Aragorn reached out and laid a hand on her bulging womb, pressing carefully with his fingers, feeling for the child.

It was _not_ Legolas's hand that touched her, and she reacted, knowing full-well whose it was. Fury burned hot through her agony, and she released the bedsheet to battle her weakness and shove his hand away from her skin.

" _No! Do not touch me!_ " Her words were harsh, punishing, and Legolas lifted his head, horrified at them. Aragorn had no response except to snatch her wrist with one hand and continue probing with the other, forcing his injured arm to function again. " _You—_ " she began to snarl but the agony took her words and breath from her again.

Legolas turned his face to Aragorn's, watching him closely as he pressed around with his hand. "Aragorn, what—" Legolas's own voice cut off as the man leaned over her to look at the child's head.

"His shoulder is caught," he stated. "We must work quickly."

To Legolas's amazement, Aragorn's weariness faded into the background and purpose took its place. Aragorn released Enguina's wrist and reached up and touched her sweaty face. "Enguina, the child is trapped; Legolas and I are going to move him."

She was trembling beneath his hand, her exhaustion evident, yet she still had the presence of mind to fight to breathe and glare at him. "Not…not _you_ …"

"There is no time, and no choice," he stated, and he reached over and put a cool rag on her forehead. He knew this was awkward; he did not know what Legolas had told her, but he had to put it aside for a moment. He refused to be uncomfortable, refused to be hurt—there was no time. Her frustration was written all over her face even while in desperate pain; she was still holding a grudge. What had happened could not be erased by the words of Legolas and no explanation.

"Enguina, Legolas is going to need both of his hands in a moment. Take one of mine."

She shook her head, unable to refuse verbally and unwilling to let Legolas go.

"Can you not—" Legolas began, alarmed, but Aragorn's honest sincerity cut off his protest.

"Legolas, you will have to forgive me," he sighed, "for I do not have the strength. And please, we must do this quickly or there may be harm to the child." When no one moved for a moment and Enguina's breathing quickened from another painful contraction, Aragorn reached over her, putting pressure on every injury he had sustained and pried her hand from Legolas and wrapped his around it. Initially resentful but unable to do anything about it, she suddenly gripped him, her groan becoming a wail as her eyes closed and her head fell back again.

Aragorn set out his left arm, looking back to Legolas. "Lift her legs and put them over my arm; she is weak and cannot hold them alone."

"You do not fare much better," he said softly, but he did exactly as he was told, unable to think of how in the world this was going to help her. He took her ankles in his hands and pushed her thighs towards her belly as Aragorn slipped his arm beneath the crooks of her knees. He breathed out, the effort of keeping her legs aloft a struggle for him. "Aragorn, are you certain—"

"Now," he continued, ignoring the elf's protestations and Enguina's heavy, pained breathing, "take your hand, make a fist, and place it above and to the right of her pubic bone." Again, Legolas did as he asked, his other hand now under the child's head, just touching him. The elf's eyes were frightened as he stared into Aragorn's, but the man remained calm, even as Enguina tore into the hand she held. "Push down, with force…not hard, but with force, Legolas…three or four times. If he does not come forward, do it again." He felt Enguina's grip start to get tighter again. "Do it _right_ _now_."

Even in his fear, Legolas did as Aragorn commanded, his hand pumping over Enguina's womb. It made Enguina even more uncomfortable, the pressure building now from his thumping. _Legolas! This is not better!_ She was terrified that the man was wrong, that he was _killing_ their child, and she released his hand to shove against his shoulder.

"Let go!" came her agonized cry as she tried to squirm out of his grip. He hissed but moved immediately, preventing her as he leaned himself over her and trapped her body beneath him, pinning her to the bed between his right hip and elbow. She did _not_ want him there; she did not _trust_ him one bit; she did not want him telling Legolas what to do!

Legolas tried three or four times, trying to ignore Enguina's squirming. "He has not moved," he forced out, his hands beginning to tremble now in fear.

Aragorn, at least, was calm, even with gritted teeth as Enguina attempted to shove at him. "Take your other hand and slide it inside her beside the infant's head. You need to dislodge his shoulder."

Legolas's eyes were full of incredulity. " _Aragorn,_ I _cannot_ —"

" _Do it, Legolas!_ " Aragorn snapped, his patience finished, sweat beading his brow. The elf met his eyes. " _Right now!_ "

" _No! No, let me go!_ " cried Enguina in agony, her nails digging into Aragorn's back. She could not see over or around him; she could not see her husband. _Legolas, please!_

Aragorn ignored her, his expression more serious than the grave. "You have no choice. The child is hung up inside her and is not breathing; the pressure is too great, which means he could be _dead_ before she delivers and she could hemorrhage and bleed out. _Now, Legolas! NOW!_ "

He did not shout the last words, but in his effort to continue holding Enguina, he spat them. Legolas's face was as white as the sheet, but the man's order pressured him. He tried to do what Aragorn asked of him immediately, but he could not get more than two fingers past the child's head.

His breathing quickened in frustration. "Ilúvatar! I cannot do it!" He was now in a panic even worse than before. "The child is so tight; I cannot get more than the tips of my fingers, and not enough to reach him!"

"Take my knife."

Enguina screamed incomprehensibly, terrified that Aragorn had lost his mind and could not be trusted. She tried to throw him from her, thrashing, but he held her down even more tightly, burning up whatever strength they both had left.

" _What?!_ " Legolas shouted. " _Are you mad?!_ "

"Take it! You have no choice but to perform the cut so you can get your hand inside!" Aragorn was desperate to remain calm, but if he had to push Legolas to save the child's life he would.

Legolas shook his head so forcefully, listening to Enguina's voice weakly call his name in his head, that he thought it might fall from his shoulders. "I cannot! I cannot do it, Aragorn!"

"Look at me," the man said, his teeth gritted, his body trembling with the pressure of holding her down and her legs up. "Block your ears from her cries, Legolas, and be sensible! You _must_ do as I say. There is no other way! Every moment could mean their death!"

Again, the words made Legolas reach behind him and draw the sheathed dagger, trying desperately to do as the man said.

"If there was another way," the man added, "I would have you do it." Aragorn leaned all of his weight onto Enguina's chest. He glanced back to look into her tight face. "Everything will be all right, Enguina. Try to lie still now and—"

She cried aloud. " _Stop! Stop! I do not trust you! No, please, Legolas!_ "

Her pleas for him to stop were not as convincing as the argument that the babe and Enguina could die. Even as Aragorn whispered promises to her that the baby would be all right, even Legolas could feel the contraction coming. As he cut with the knife, he felt as though he cut his own heart out, so intense was her pain in his head. Her body began to writhe, but Aragorn forced her to be still enough for him to make a clean cut. Legolas lowered the knife.

"Slip your hand inside and turn the child's shoulder," Aragorn said quietly, but urgently. "If you have to, tug out the child's right arm and put pressure under his arm, gently though, and when the contraction comes. Move quickly, Legolas."

Enguina was gasping, her head thrashing against the bed as her trembling hands wrapped in the back of Aragorn's tunic. He turned his head back to her. "Push on this next contraction, Enguina. Push just a little bit." She could not bear to look at him, exhaustion, pain, and derision for him taking hold of her, even while she did not know if she _could_ push anymore.

"I can feel his arm," Legolas said, staring down at the baby as he could feel Enguina's body tensing around him. "God, his hands…! I have it! _I have it!_ "

Enguina cried out, and Aragorn encouraged her again, his voice soothing. "Push, Enguina, push. Push for your baby; bring him into the world. Two more…"

"He is free!" Legolas cried, tears in his voice. "His shoulder is free!"

Legolas's hand and most of the child came free and he slipped his hand under the babe as the child slid toward him. He was unable to draw breath as he looked upon the baby's perfect form—perfect ears, perfect hands, perfect nose, perfect mouth—he loved every bit of the babe and he was not even out yet! But in all that bloody perfection, Enguina was still in pain, her feet trembling as they brushed his shoulders.

A moment later, another powerful contraction came. Aragorn whispered something to her that he did not hear, but Legolas felt her groan in pain and then the baby slipped out into his arms, a wonderful, beautiful mess.

"We…we have a son…" He whispered tearfully, a sob of joy escaping his lips. And then his eyes caught something that stopped his heart.

"Legolas," Aragorn called as the elf's eyes began to widen in panic again and he lowered Enguina's legs as quickly as he could. Softly, he said, "Lay the child flat on the bed and clear his nose and mouth. Put two fingers in the center of his chest and your mouth over his mouth and nose and breath once; then pump gently with your fingers four or five times."

"You… _knew_?" he asked, even as he got into position.

"Yes," he answered honestly. "But he will be all right. This is normal for a child that was trapped." He tried to push himself upright from Enguina's chest, but nearly fell back down upon her he was so weak. He managed to sit up and straighten, turning back to look into Enguina's sweaty, exhausted face. Reaching out, he wet the rag again and set it back on her forehead.

"A…a son?" she asked weakly, breathlessly, her eyes still closed. "We…have…"

"Yes, a son," he told her gently. "Take it easy; breathe as deeply as you can. The hard part is over. You will have several more contractions, but the full delivery will be over soon. Well done, mother," he continued, stroking her face once, and this time she did not pull away. "Well done."

A little cough was heard, a gasp, a few more little coughs. Aragorn turned his head back to Legolas and watched as his friend scooped the baby from the bed and held his little boy in his arms for the first time and then broke down into tears. The little hands waved, the little feet kicked the air, and Legolas cried, his eyes fixed on the child who was quiet. Legolas could do no more; he needed now to be with Enguina.

"Legolas," Aragorn called softly, "take my place and lay the babe on her chest." Both men rose unsteadily to their feet, Legolas still having eyes only for the child. Aragorn caught his arm before he took the man's place and gave a few final directions to him and a cloth to swaddle the babe. Finally, Legolas pulled his eyes from the babe's face, nodding as he looked down into Enguina's as she strained with another contraction and cramping, gasping with pain, her eyes closed in her fatigue.

"Little one, come and see your mother," he choked out. With one hand, he unbuttoned the front of her tunic and she opened her eyes, watching as he ever-so-gently laid the child upon her breast, skin to skin. Her breathing came in short gasps as he wiped his hands on his own stained tunic, and reached up to stroke the edge of Enguina's soaked hair and forehead.

" _Oh Eru_ ," she breathed, "…he is…he is…" She could hardly speak, and as she tried to lift her hand it faltered, dropping back to the mattress. Legolas caught it, and lifted her hand in his, placing it on the child's back. She rubbed her fingers along his slippery skin, but she did not care. Tears poured down her face as well, and Legolas bent forward to kiss all over her face with a feather light touch.

"You are almost done," he whispered to her. "You can rest soon." He laid his hand over hers on the baby's back. The little babe cracked his eyes just the tiniest bit, and Legolas saw the smallest points of green peek out. He stopped breathing again.

"I love you," she said, her voice so tired, "and he is so warm…so perfect." Her teeth began chattering.

 _Are you all right?_ He stroked her face, concerned. "Guin—"

A blanket covered her gently from breast down, nearly to her knees to cover her trembling form. Legolas looked up to Aragorn leaning near her knees as Enguina's eyes closed gratefully. The man said nothing, so Legolas focused on Enguina once again; there would be time to talk later.

"I am so proud of you," he whispered. "You worked so hard."

"You…thank you," she replied, swallowing hard. "You are the reason I made it." Another contraction took her and she tilted her head back against the pillow, her breath squeaking out of her throat, wracked by the pain. He took her other hand and held it tight.

 _I am right here, moina quen._

"I…I know," she whispered, her eyelids fluttering. He took one hand and laid it over her belly, gently rubbing it back and forth. She winced. "That…hurts."

"I know," he murmured honestly, "but it will help your body."

She cracked an eye and raised a brow. "How…do you know that?"

"I listen to the man," he replied honestly, and her chin moved as she nodded slightly. "You did _so_ well," he continued. "You were so strong, my love, so brave." She ran her fingertips along the baby's head, then neck and shoulders. The baby opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to look at her face.

Tears flowed again as she looked into his face. "My little boy," she whispered, loving him. Legolas released her hands and laid a hand on her face again. The baby's mouth moved and his fingers were curling and uncurling against her breast. " _Oh, how we love you…mommy and daddy love you…_ "

"Is he hungry already?" Legolas asked, watching his mouth.

"Not…not yet," Enguina whispered, and Legolas reached over to adjust the pillow so that she could watch the child and rest her head at the same time. He leaned down to kiss her again, brushing his nose against hers as his hand made its way back to rubbing her belly.

"Why not close your eyes for a few minutes?" he asked as she winced again, her teeth still chattering. "You two are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. Ilúvatar has blessed me immeasurably."

Aragorn, down below, barely listened to what they were saying to one another. Enguina was still bleeding; though that was natural he needed to be sure, and even though Legolas had made the cut the least way he could he also needed to close that. He had no doubt that Enguina would _not_ take kindly to him being where he was right now and he barely could stand up straight in his own exhaustion, but there was no one else to take care of her. Legolas needed to be with her and the babe; Hildanir was keeping watch outside for Mennev; he was it.

Reaching through the slick skins, Aragorn located the bleeding rather easily. It was just inside her, tearing from the child's trapped shoulders and from pressing against her so roughly. Taking a thin towel, he worked to slow the bleeding in both places, careful to move gently so as to go unnoticed. After the delivery of the placenta and Enguina's official labor coming to an end, he began to carefully stitch the wounds closed. Her contractions would continue a bit longer, but they would be much less painful to her, and he could still see Legolas rubbing her belly as he had stated—this would help with fluids and cramping from the child. The healing process would clearly take more time; her exhaustion would follow the amount of blood she had lost.

The stitching, at least, went easily. Legolas had done a neat job and the inside tear was not difficult to repair; as long as she was careful, the cuts would heal within a few days. The other task he took upon himself was the necessary cleaning. He sponged the birthing fluids and blood from her body and removed the animal skins that Legolas had so deftly prepared in the event of the child's birth here. A comfortably-placed towel would catch any extra blood flow for now until she was comfortable and rested enough to dress. He would want to check on her later to be sure, but he could say for the moment that it was time for Legolas and family to have some well-deserved peace.

He straightened, and immediately needed to catch himself on her knee before he nearly collapsed, his vision swimming. Finally regaining his balance, he wiped his hands on another towel, and then he removed the stained bed clothes and skins and tossed them into a basin in the bath, leaving them to soak. As he cleaned his hands, he had no thoughts at all to spare for the clothes tonight. What time _was_ it? He had no idea. It did not matter. _Thank Ilúvatar that she is well and their little boy is here and safe!_ He blinked back tears. _A son! Thank you so, Ilúvatar, for blessing them with such a little miracle._

He made his way slowly back to the room where Arwen was lying, so grateful that all were safe. Yes, he had needed to push Legolas a bit, but the elf had been decisive when necessary. Aragorn was very relieved, not only that all were safe, but that he could return to his beloved and not leave her side again.


	55. Chapter 55

It had not been an easy rest, and with her face hot and dizziness making her head swim, Arwen came back to her own mind and found herself lying in bed. She was trembling, _freezing_ , but she did not have the presence of mind to figure out why. Her fingers moved, reaching about on the bed for the warmth of Aragorn's hand or body, the form that had been there, but she could not find him.

She swallowed and opened her eyes, worry and anxiety creeping up on her quickly. He _had_ been here…she knew it was true! She could not have imagined it. She _could not have_! Panic and despair began to set in; her breathing grew heavy and ragged, her heart pounding and chest aching with physical pain. She closed her eyes tight.

 _Please, Father! I beg you that you did not allow me a moment of peace only to make it not real! You could not be so cruel as to do this!_

She tried to get her breathing under control, but she could not; so instead, she focused on clearing her blurry eyes—and that was when she saw him. He appeared ragged, weary, the sleeves rolled up on his wrinkled tunic, but it did not matter. What mattered was that he was _real_ , and she could not keep the tears of relief out of her eyes. Her heart was still racing, and she was certain he could hear it over where he had come in and that he must have seen the look of panic on her face.

He could and he had, of course, so he limped toward her, reaching out immediately for her left hand as he attempted to lower himself with a little bit of poise to her bedside. He did not fall, but it was not graceful either. He noticed instantly that she was trembling from head to toe.

"Easy," he said gently, "I am here." Her eyes closed and tears slipped out when they reopened to meet his.

"You—" she began, but her voice was a croak and her breathing was heavy. She attempted to swallow and tried again, but he laid a finger on her lips to quiet her. Then, after he helped her drink some water, she tried once more. "You frightened me…you were gone…" she said, though her voice was no stronger than before.

"I frightened _you_?" he questioned her softly. "You stopped breathing too many times, my love," he murmured, rubbing a finger across her lips and then lowering the hand to her heart. "Beloved, I did not think I was going to get you back." He gave her more to drink.

 _I thought…_ She could not say the words aloud. _I thought I had imagined you, as I had before…that I was dreaming again…_

Her words in his head, although still so weak, struck him. He lowered his eyes, staring at his hand and hers over her heart. "I could never beg you enough for your forgiveness," he replied aloud and his whisper spoke to her of his grief. "For leaving you here, for abandoning you…"

"You had no—" She meant to say 'choice,' but her voice cut off as she coughed a few times before groaning in pain, her chest aching.

"You should not try to speak," he reminded her quietly. "You need to rest, Arwen."

" _You_ …need to rest…" she continued, her eyes half-closing. Her chest pained with every breath; her back was aching; her head felt hot; her lungs were heavy. Was she ill? "I feel…so weak…"

He lifted a tired hand and laid it against her face; this time she did not flinch away and he was very relieved to see it. "How long were you out in the weather?" he asked her gently, feeling for her forehead then. Her eyes closed all the way and she tried to wet her lips again. He helped her drink a little more water and she caught his eyes only for a moment before he looked away.

"The…the look you give…"

"I am worried for you," he told her honestly, locating a blanket within reach to cover her shivering form to her waist. "Ilúvatar brought you back from the grave, and now you must heal; you must recover, regain your strength. And I…am not well enough to heal you." The guilt in his voice was overpowering, and she gave him a little smile, barely dragging her hand up high enough to touch his wrist. He caught her hand and held it gently, laying it back down at her side while keeping his fingers in hers. The wrist was broken, and it would do her no good to be moving it. Yet another thing to be grateful to Hildanir for—he had set it.

"Your…presence is enough," she said in the same soft voice, half-opening her eyes again to see him. He returned her little smile. She coughed again, her face contorting with the agony of her chest and ribs. Her heavy breathing returned as she tried to catch her breath, and Aragorn released her hand to lay one hand on her ribcage and forced the other to lie between her breasts. Her tunic was unbuttoned down the front, exposing her battered, bruised, and scrawny figure. She could feel heat through his hands and she shook her head. "No…" she muttered and he frowned at her.

"Several of your ribs are broken," he stated. She had been too exposed, he thought, and perhaps if he were lucky he could force away whatever illness she was getting if he worked quickly. She was too weak, too injured, to survive something such as that now. Her condition…it _appalled_ him. He could hardly think of what she had suffered; it made him sick, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed and continued, "You are in pain."

"And you…are exhausted…" she whispered back. "In no condition…to heal…when you…need healing yourself…"

Sudden, unbidden and unwanted tears flooded his eyes and he had to lower his head so she would not see. How she wished she had the strength to comfort him physically! Instead, she settled for caressing his presence with hers, though even that was a struggle that left her drained.

"Let…it be," she whispered.

"I…I cannot," he told her brokenly. _I look at you, and to my everlasting shame I see what he has done…and what I could not stop…If only I had been here, Arwen!_

 _Lie down beside me again…forget for a little while…tomorrow we will speak of it._

 _Tomorrow?_

 _Yes, tomorrow. For now…I only need you._

He did as she asked. First, because it was true that he was exhausted and could never have done anything to heal her. Second, because she had told him to and he needed to obey; he did not want to fight or argue or even have a slight disagreement. He needed her as she needed him. With difficulty, he stretched out once again behind her. Part of him desired to tell her of the birth, but the other part was so exhausted that he could not bring himself to tell the story when he knew she so obviously needed to rest. He closed his eyes, sighing as he breathed her in, as grateful as she was that he was there beside her.

She forced her hand to his face to trace the tired skin around his eyes. Dark circles had formed there, just as they had upon hers. Silver was lining some of his hair as it had not been. He was lying in such a way that she knew he was wounded. They would have to talk about that as well, though she thought now perhaps the warg _had_ been real…if the rest of it had been…

But no. She did not want to think of it just yet. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would deal with the tragedy their lives had become in the last two months. Not now. Now, she only wanted to feel the joy of touching his face, and being at peace beside him, and nothing else.

Aragorn was asleep in a moment at the gentleness of her touch, and after several minutes, Arwen, too, joined him.

* * *

Legolas lifted his head and blinked his eyes to erase the sleep from them. Rubbing his neck, he looked upon his wife with loving eyes, seeing the baby stretched out between her breasts, wrapped tightly in a swaddling cloth to keep him warm. Staring at him, so tiny, so fragile, Legolas knew there was nothing else that would ever come close to the moment he had first held his boy in his arms. It was a different feeling, a new feeling of protectiveness and love he had never experienced quite the way he had earlier. He loved Enguina and wanted to protect her, but this was different in an extreme way. He remembered Faramir's two children and what it had been like to feel awe over them…but this…this was _their_ son.

He had to be the most blessed elf this side of Valinor, the Holy Realm. And it was not only this, but he was so lucky to still count his friendship with Aragorn among the blessings of his life for he had come once again to his aid in time of desperate need. Arwen, too, was safe and would heal; this was also a blessing. And then for him to look down and see the lovely mother of his firstborn lying before him, even in restless sleep, was such a blessing. She had worked so hard through the labor, and he could tell she was in stress because she was blinking rapidly, even in sleep. Nearly seventeen hours of labor had taken a toll on her, and she had been under terrible stress _before_ that time; she would need time to recover from this ordeal.

He rose soundlessly and moved to her feet. She was covered with a sheet to keep her warm, but he wanted to add another blanket just to be sure. Before he did, he made sure that the blood was taken care of, noticing that once again, Aragorn had done everything possible to make her comfortable. Here he was, far older than the man, and yet there were so many things that Aragorn knew that he knew nothing of. He could not have been more grateful. He laid a hand on her ankle, stroked her skin once, and then looked up at her face. She was still resting, and the child had not moved from his position on her chest.

Slipping from the room, he made his way to the guestroom, looking inside at his sleeping friends. There was Aragorn, lying beside Arwen, their heads so close they were touching. He could see from the doorway that she was covered up now, so her bruises and wounds were hidden. There was no sign of Hildanir. He listened to them breathing for a moment.

 _Thank you, gracious Lord and Father. Thank you for repairing their love, for returning him to her side. Thank you for not allowing her to give up her life. I praise you._

He smiled and then turned back to the hall and entered the kitchen. There was no sight of Hildanir, but there were signs of him—a warm fire in the hearth, a new stew heating over it, along with a pot of tea. There were also freshly baked loaves of bread sitting on the table, and Legolas blessed the man in his head as he collected some food for the two of them. Enguina needed nourishment, and he wanted to be back at her side. First, he filled the water jug in Arwen's room and left them a loaf of bread as well, knowing that when they woke they would be hungry, too. He returned to the kitchen to bring Enguina's food to her.

As he entered the room, Enguina's hands were moving, rubbing the baby's back gently. He smiled and took a seat beside her on the bed again, setting down the food he had collected on the chair and then reaching out to stroke a hand through her hair.

"Hello," she whispered, a brilliant smile on her face.

He gave her an equal grin. "Good morning, my ray of sunshine," he said, and he leaned over to kiss her soundly. She gave to the kiss and ended it with a sigh of delight as he leaned his forehead on hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she replied easily and honestly. "Sore, as well." He ran a hand over the child's back and then settled over Enguina's belly where he began to gently massage her again. She groaned. "Not that again."

He smiled. "Aragorn told me that it helps."

She rolled her eyes. "You would leap from a tower if that man told you it was safe."

He hesitated and then nodded. "You are probably right." He lifted his head and then brushed his lips against the back of the babe's head. "Our son," he whispered.

"Yes," she said with a little sigh. " _Our_ son."

"I am still in awe," he said, staring down at him as his hand continued massaging her. "I never could have imagined anything such as this."

"A baby?"

He shook his head. " _Any_ of it, Guin. Our marriage, a home…a child…feeling _love like this_. It is an incredible blessing much more than I could have ever hoped for." She smiled as she watched him watching their sleeping little boy.

"I did not know I could love two people the same way," she said honestly, and he turned his head to meet her eyes. "I did not know that what I feel for you I could feel for another. He is _ours_ , Legolas, in every way. And we must raise him."

He nodded, smiling. "I am looking forward to every moment of that."

She suddenly looked to the chair and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, is that _food_?"

He laughed. "Yes, courtesy of Hildanir. The man is a blessing."

"The man is a _saint_ ," she corrected. Then, with her eyes she begged him. "Can you take him and then help me sit up? He is not going to wake yet."

Legolas thought the babe would wake as soon as he lifted him, however, he had no problem at all lifting him and laying him in the nearby cradle. Then, as gently as he could, he helped Enguina sit up; it was uncomfortable, but she made it.

He shared the bread and stew with her, letting his hand stray back to her belly now and then to rub it gently. The tea was the most helpful, as it had been brewed with pain-relieving herbs for which Enguina was very grateful.

She glanced over at their son to be sure he was still asleep and then over to Legolas as she took another spoonful of stew. "So…" He met her eyes.

"Yes, _moina_?"

"Tell me about _him_."

Legolas smiled ruefully. "I know that was not what you wanted to happen at all, but—"

"It was awful," she admitted. "It was the worst possible scenario I could have imagined, and yet, it happened. And I _am_ grateful, even if I may not seem it, not wanting to live in the man's debt." The last she grumbled and he had to chuckle, passing her some more tea.

"I will try to explain as concisely as possible. Aragorn came to Minas Tirith and when he arrived, he immediately explained what had happened. The councilman Nardur had plotted with one of the Gondorians to force Erumar to seduce him so that she could bear him an heir. He did it so well that he poisoned the two of them with an elixir that made them desire one another, to nearly lose their minds to it. When that happened—"

"So he _did_ do it?" Enguina questioned bluntly, fierce anger behind her voice though she tried to control it.

"He was consumed by the drug, they both were," he said gently. "That was what Arwen felt. It seems that when Arwen reached out to him, she was his salvation—it made him come back to himself. He had to injure Erumar to stop her, but they did stop. He…did not make love to her."

Enguina's eyes narrowed. "Are you certain? He was not lying? There was truth in his eyes?"

"He was… _more_ than distraught over what he had done," he told her. "There was more than truth in his eyes. He meant every word, and Hildanir and Mennev told the story true as well."

"If you left for food," she said, "you must have seen them. How is Arwen?"

"Warm and recovering. Probably not as quickly as we would like," he admitted. "Do you remember when Arwen told us that she thought Aragorn had been injured?" Enguina nodded, eating another spoonful of stew. "He _had_ been attacked by a warg and rider. His wounds were severe, and he still has not fully healed as he has been running for weeks to get here, to save her. Those few times I left the room while you were in labor, he was fighting for her life. She…was fighting him."

"She did not want to be healed by him," Enguina stated, but her words were soft, tears in her eyes. "She wanted to let go so badly; she tried to kill herself the other night before you came. She wanted to die; she hoped for it, _prayed_ for it. So I can imagine it would have been very difficult for him to call her back." She shook her head. "I cannot imagine what was going on in her head all that time; I _know_ what was going on in _mine_ during labor."

"I could not have done it without him. What he said…he was right," he murmured softly. "If I had not done what he asked—"

"I know," she interrupted. "What I mean is that all of what she felt cannot simply go away. Not even after the truth is known."

"Arwen has forgiven him, it appears," Legolas added. "He sleeps at her side." The baby made a noise in his sleep and Legolas looked over at him, watching him for a moment or two. "He is so perfect."

When she made no response, Legolas looked up to find her still gazing at him with serious eyes. "Legolas…" she began, and then she stopped. "I…should not continue. Forget it."

"Tell me what is on your heart."

She frowned, suddenly looking very hollow, and he wondered at it with concern. "You will think ill of me," she whispered. "You will think me hard and…unforgiving."

"Talk to me," he said urgently, leaning forward and touching her face. "I promise I will not judge you for your thoughts. Tell me, Guin, for anything that burdens you, burdens us both."

She sighed and looked down at her hands holding the stew. "How can she just…forgive him? Just like _that_. One 'I am sorry' and it is over?" She shook her head. "How can that happen? She was so…devastated; she would not sleep, would not eat, attempted to kill herself…how can she just _forget_ all of that? It is not possible." She lifted her head and looked at him. "It simply is not."

He met her gaze. "I would think," he replied slowly, "that she must have good reason to have believed him."

"What if he is lying? What if he is deceiving us?" she asked, swallowing hard and feeling more awful by the moment. "What if he really _has_ slept with…with her? How can she forgive him, and Eru forbid, let him _touch_ her, let him lie in the same _bed_ with her?" She let her mouth fall open in shock at even thinking it. "When I first met him, I questioned how a _man_ , just a man could love as we love: forever, eternally, without bounds and without time. I still do not know if my question can be answered. _Can_ they? Can _he_? Has he loved only her those long years they were parted? _Truly?_ Has he loved only her, even now? In the face of everything that has happened between them can he truly never think about other choices he might make? After all, he is only a man whose time is fleeting." He listened to her carefully as she shook her head. "I feel awful…I hate to think this way…

"And I worry terribly for her. To go through this, to suffer this way…I worry for their future, for her future with him. I worry that I am unforgiving, for I do not think that I could forgive you so readily…or so easily for causing me such pain." Tears formed in her eyes. "I do not know if I could endure it." Legolas looked down at their son for a few moments as he thought about what she had said. Enguina was relieved that he had not dismissed her musings outright, but his long silence also worried her. She twisted her hands together. "What are you thinking? I cannot tell."

He reached out and slipped his hand between hers. "Enguina, your concerns are valid, but you are not Arwen."

"She has _always_ been stronger than me," she said with a sigh. "She has such strength, and she has always trusted Ilúvatar, but this was different. She lost all hope, Legolas; you saw her! You were the one who told me that I needed to prepare myself, that she was going to leave. If it were me—"

"Yes, she lost who she was," he agreed, "but you must also understand that you do not fully understand the heart of Aragorn, or their history as well as you think you do."

She flushed a little, but then said, "You doubted him, as well. You were angrier than I was."

He nodded. "Yes, I saw no way that what Arwen had felt was untrue, but there was no way to deny the truth from Aragorn's lips."

She eyed him intently. "Tell me, then.

"Arwen told you of how they met in the birches of Imladris, but they had not seen one another for thirty years before they pledged themselves to one another in Lórien. All that time, Aragorn was not even _tempted_ to have eyes for another woman. I should know…I am the one who tried to convince him to love _anyone_ other than the Evenstar."

"You?" questioned Enguina, surprise on her face. "But you were one of her closest friends! And one of his, were you not?"

"Selfishly, I wished to protect her and save her life from the death of men, just as her father did," he replied. "It mattered not; he would not even look at another woman. He used to sing to her at night, staring at the stars." He shook his head. "I never understood it until I met you. And after they were together again in Lothlórien, he did not see her for _another_ twenty years, roaming in the Wilds for defense against Sauron's spreading evil. And then it was the same; even more so, knowing what he shared with her…" He looked down at their joined hands. "It is…impossible for Aragorn to betray her. He loves her so much his heart would burst; he will literally stop at nothing to be beside her. He does everything for the sake of her love. He will never leave her. Not before death takes him."

Enguina thought about Arwen miscarrying the child and how gentle Aragorn had been with her. That was all true…but when there was no child, could he still feel the same way for her? When she could not give him what was necessary? The questions remained in her head, but Legolas could see them behind her eyes.

"As for the matter of her forgiveness," he added into her silence, and he gave her a little smile as he stroked her cheek with his free hand, "I do not know the depths of a woman's heart, nor the certainty of her convictions, nor how deep the bond that she shares with the man she loves—this I only know of what I have found with you. Though I can say this: if I was proven wrong in such a way, and I was on the verge of death only to be called back to life after trying to destroy myself, I would immediately take refuge in the arms that had sheltered me all of my life." He continued seriously, "I have always trusted Aragorn with my life, and I…am determined that for as long as I live, I will try to never believe wrongly of him or distrust him again. I have no excuse."

"Arwen believed he had done this terrible thing," she said softly. "That excuses you of blame."

"I am ashamed to say what I felt against him. I wrote him a letter, while you were away, that described my hate for him." He frowned. "It was wrong of me. To hear his words of how he felt that he _had_ betrayed her, that he felt he _had_ committed adultery with Erumar even though the deed went unfinished…he was undone by what had happened. To think that he had even thought about her the way that he thought of Arwen, was unfathomable to him. He said that he will never find enough ways to beg her forgiveness, to prove himself."

Enguina sighed. "I imagine that he _does_ feel terrible," she said. "I hate to think badly of him, Legolas, but I…am so worried for her. To see her the way she had been these past weeks, to watch her ride along with no sense of life at all, to watch her try to sleep and dream of him…I have spent too many hours almost losing her. It is difficult for me to think of her walking off to her death again. I do not think I could bear it." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Perhaps, if I…try, I will forget this time of grief. I…need to pray that I make peace with this situation, that I can forgive him as you have." Her eyes were sad. "I want us all to be a family again."

A muttering came from the cradle at that moment, which made both of them turn to look. Their son was looking at them, clearly listening, attentive to the tones of his parent's voices. Enguina smiled as Legolas reached down and lifted him up. He cooed to him softly, and the little one simply looked back at him, his mouth opening and closing.

"I think someone is hungry," he whispered, leaning over to rub his nose on the babe's.

"Here," Enguina said, "let me take him." He traded the baby for her bowl of stew and Legolas helped her get comfortable and then watched him latch to her breast, a bit awkwardly, but he made it. She looked up to find Legolas smiling at her. "A family again," she repeated. "I did not think it would be possible ever again."

"Nor I," he agreed. "But I am so grateful that we will be."

"He is so beautiful," she said, sighing with love. "We have thought of so many names, Legolas. How shall we choose one?"

"Perhaps we can name him for what he _will_ be," Legolas replied softly, stroking his finger along the baby's arm as his hand tried to tighten on Enguina's breast. "What about a name for a perfect bowman? Perhaps Lúvatan?"

"What about Arnil, for noble prince?" she said with a giggle.

"Or Palanil, for friend of far and wide?" he offered.

"Oh, I do not know…I am not sure I want him to be too much of a wanderer," she said thoughtfully. "What of Dúthon?"

"That is handsome. How about Ninniach?" he laughed. She smacked him on the arm.

"Now you _are_ being silly, and I was trying to be serious! If you are going to offer ridiculous names, then so am I. What about Naurpaur or Rochdol?"

He burst out laughing and grinned. "I like Minyorch."

She gave him a horrified look and then laughed as well. "'First Goblin" is awful! It is so good that he cannot understand you yet! That was so mean!"

"Yes," he scoffed, "because 'Horse Head' is so much better!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever it is, whatever we choose, he has to have it the rest of his life, so…we need to make sure it is good."

He smiled, stroking her face for a few moments as she looked down on their son. "Your eyes are about ready to close again, _moina_." It took her a moment to reply, and in that moment he leaned over and pressed his lips to the babe's temple and then over her heart before pressing his lips gently to hers.

She laughed suddenly. "I feel exhausted, as though I have not slept in months; perhaps that is because I felt as though we were sleeping at attention all the time. That I always needed one ear tuned to…well, Arwen."

"We were," he admitted. "Now you shall be sleeping in the same way, but with an ear tuned toward our son."

"Thankfully, I have you for that as well," she murmured and he smiled and kissed her again…and again…

"Once more…" he said, his voice hushed, and she rubbed her nose against his as he leaned back a bit from her.

"I love you," she sighed, her voice a whisper. "I…I never thought I would ever be here, holding my own child in my arms. I would have never thought it possible for me. For nearly four years I have loved you, and I feel as though it has been my whole life. It is as though that other me…she never existed. As though I never lived until I found you."

He smiled. "The other me existed but…it was a very different existence." He kissed her again, and she helped the baby switch to her other breast, trying not to jostle him too much. They were quiet for several long minutes, listening to the baby when Legolas softly chuckled at him, stroking a finger along his cheek. "He is almost asleep again as well. He is barely eating."

"Will you sing to us?" Enguina asked, suddenly shy, and when he lifted his head he noticed her eyes were already half-lidded. Laying one hand beneath the baby, he reached the other up to gently stroke her face, back and forth, back and forth.

"What shall I sing, _moina_?"

"Anything…" she whispered. "Your voice is so soothing." He smiled, and began his lullaby.

 _The day fades into night and the stars come out to glow_

 _Little eyes are closing soon for I know_

 _It is time for sleeping and getting into bed_

 _Laying down every weary head_

 _My little one yawns and yearns for a dream_

 _Father sighs though his eyes are a-gleam_

 _Waiting for Mother to lay babe to rest_

 _Into a cozy and comfortable nest_

 _As the dove gathers her chicks under her wings_

 _The crickets chirp, the nightingale sings_

 _All creation sleeps at evening's break_

 _And you and I sleep also must take_

 _So lay your head once more near my heart_

 _Let love surround you in the dark_

 _Eru watch over my family I pray_

 _As we rest after another glorious day_

Even after he finished the song, Legolas continued to hum the melody; he knew that both Enguina and the babe were asleep. He watched them both, still in awe over the little one and the thought of being a father. Looking on the babe, he realized that his whole life up to this point had been preparation for this moment without him knowing; it was mind-numbing and humbling. He could not seem to stop thanking Ilúvatar for the safety of the two of them, for the joy they had brought to his life, for every moment he would spend teaching and loving his little boy. He once more brushed the hair back from his wife's face, tucking stray strands behind her ear, and then kissed her lovingly once more.


	56. Chapter 56

When Aragorn woke, he had no idea what day it was or how long he had been asleep, for the first time in...well, several weeks, if he admitted it to himself. It was dark outside the window, but there was enough light thrown from the window that he could see little flakes of white falling. _Snow…_ He sighed and slowly began to push himself into a sitting position, feeling every muscle and bone twinge and ache that he had abused in the last month. However long he had been out, it had been for a good, long while if he was this sore. When he was finally sitting, he rolled his neck and then looked down on his wife.

She was covered with another blanket—Hildanir's doing, most likely—and her color was infinitely better. He reached out and laid a hand on her forehead, feeling for any sign of a fever. Thankfully, it appeared there was none, and as he listened to her breathing, her chest seemed clear. This was all good. He gently moved the blanket aside and noticed her wrist was splinted and that the bandages covering the gash down her middle had been cleaned and changed.

 _May Ilúvatar grant you your every desire, Hildanir. May he bless your every step. May he turn his face toward you and give you—_

"My Lord?"

Aragorn turned his head, gently returning the blanket to cover her, and looked toward the door to see the man he had just been praying for. He smiled at him. "Hildanir, it is good to see you, friend. Thank you, for caring for Arwen. You have done us the greatest service a man could ever ask."

The man blushed and bowed as he came into the room. "Please, your praise is unnecessary."

Aragorn looked at him seriously then. "Unnecessary? It is essential. Whatever it is possible for a King to do for his friend, whatever you want, consider it yours and done."

Hildanir bowed his head. "I…do not know what to say."

"Say nothing," he said simply. He gently laid his hand along her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "What day is it?"

Hildanir smiled. "You were asleep for nearly a day and a half. I think your body was done with you. It had enough."

Aragorn stared at him. "Did…Arwen, did she wake during that time? And you did not rouse me?"

"It was at her desire I did not," he admitted. "I was splinting her wrist at the time she woke."

"I take it back," he stated softly, raising an eyebrow. "The part about whatever you want being done for you." Hildanir laughed and stood across from him.

"If your positions were reversed, you would have done the same, so I let you rest. You needed it. In other news, Legolas and Enguina are well." He smiled. "The babe is beautiful."

Aragorn smiled. "Have they chosen a name?"

"If they have, I do not know it."

"Did you hold him?"

He laughed. "For three minutes before the little thing began bawling for his mother." He shook his head. "I am _not_ made for children."

Aragorn grinned at him. "You would be surprised, my friend. Tell me, how are Arwen's wounds? You have done a fine job bandaging them."

Hildanir bowed his head yet again. "Anything for my Lady. Her chest wound is deep; my uncle was _not_ kind. It needed stitching," he added with a frown, "and that was unpleasant. Her wrist will be fine once it mends. The wound in her shoulder is packed and will need changing in a few hours—that will not be pleasant either." He grimaced. "Her ribs are wrapped, but there is little else we can do for them. And…she has…other…wounds that are not so fresh, but they may scar as well." He seemed embarrassed by what he had seen but Aragorn nodded his head. "She did not take it well, Elessar…just as you had said."

"No," he agreed quietly. "But as Ilúvatar wills, she will mend. Has Mennev returned?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding though his gaze darkened. "My Uncle is tied up in the warmest part of the barn. I will not allow him to come anywhere near the house. When everything is settled here, we must make a journey to Minas Tirith." He tilted his head. "Am I to assume that you are to stay here for the winter?"

Aragorn frowned and looked down into Arwen's sleeping face, her eyes closed in exhaustion. "I am afraid we may have to," he replied softly.

"You are as unfit to travel as she is," Hildanir pointed out. "You need time to recover."

Aragorn hesitated and then lifted his eyes to the man's again. "I…would request that you and Mennev remain with us," his voice was so soft. "You have been my hands, both my left and my right. Arwen will need caring for—"

" _You_ will need caring for," Hildanir added honestly. "When you can walk without a limp, you are running across the field outside, you can sit astride Brego without pain, and you can easily lift that jug of water, I will consider my job complete."

Aragorn swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. "Yes," he said, trying to speak around it, "do you see why you must remain?"

Hildanir smiled and crossed his arms. "Yes, I see what you mean. Well, I shall have to find a nearby group of elves who are willing to take the man to the garrison at Osgiliath…or, Mennev and I can personally escort him as far as Henneth Annûn."

"And bear our regards to Faramir," Aragorn said with a nod, clearing his throat. "That sounds an excellent plan."

"It will be done, my Lord."

"Elessar," the man added softly. "Or Aragorn…I will have nothing less."

Hildanir bowed his head. "There is bread and fruit here. The jug of water is full."

"Did Arwen have anything to eat when she woke?"

"No, but the Lady was feverish and her chest pained her. I gave her some herbs and tea; I see that she is not feverish now for which I am much relieved. I was concerned she was growing ill."

"As was I. It appears that you chased it away."

Hildanir smiled. "Thank Ilúvatar. I am going back out to relieve Mennev so he can get some rest. I am glad I found you awake." He turned and Aragorn's voice caught him again.

"Hildanir…I am so grateful for you."

Embarrassed, Hildanir could only reply, "You are most welcome." And then the man was gone.

Aragorn sat quietly for several moments, his thumb rubbing along Arwen's skin ever-so-gently. It was when her jaw moved that he realized that she was awake. She spoke just as he was turning his head to face her.

"It was kind of you to ask him to stay," she said. Her voice was a little stronger than it had been the day before, but not as much as he would like. He stroked her jaw again.

"It was necessary," he replied. "Look at us."

She gave him a grimace. "I do not have to. I saw earlier as he was reapplying bandages to my shoulder. He said that your wounds were terrible. You were limping yesterday."

"Yes," he agreed. "I have been a little uncomfortable."

"Yet you rode here."

He tilted his head and looked down at his own hand touching her face. "I had to," he told her simply, but his voice was full of feeling. "I would suffer anything. I would die for you."

The words were simple, and he meant them with every breath he took. His other hand, the one attached to his wounded arm lay on her broken ribs, but it was gentle pressure— _welcome_ pressure. She looked at his face, his head bowed, bent with shame. There was no doubt how broken she had been, no doubt that she had wanted to die without him, and no doubt that she had tried to escape his call to return from the death she had so desired. Now, he was here; she was _with_ him, her husband. He was _touching_ her, lying beside her, reminding her of his love in the way his fingers rubbed against her jawbone. Her eyes closed, and she turned her head enough to press her lips to his palm.

 _Ilúvatar…I am so grateful…so grateful!_

She struggled, but she lifted a hand to touch his face, reveling in the sensation of her nails catching along his beard. Her fingers slowly made their way to his nose, his eyes, his eyebrows and then back to his face before he raised a hand to lay it on hers, holding it to his cheek as he turned his face into it so he could press his lips to _her_ palm.

"That tickles," he whispered. "I am the victor this morning. Well…evening."

It felt so familiar, so _good_ , to be back with him like this, to hear him speak the words. It was easier than breathing. "Then come and claim it, beloved."

He leaned over so slowly and lovingly covered her mouth with his. The kiss was long and slow, and it made her heart ache with the longing she had held for him for months. When he drew back only enough to look at her face, she could not prevent the tears, even while she tried. He lowered her hand to her chest as he was certain moving it pained her from the wound in her shoulder. After doing this, he kissed away her tears, pressing his brow to hers, and murmuring how much he loved her, over and over. How long it went on, how many times he said the words, she had no idea as her fingers wrapped around his and held on tight. He remained like that, hovering over her as the hand on her face rubbed from her neck to shoulder, down her arm and back again.

"You are so very, _very_ thin, beloved." He finally whispered words other than those of love, and so she tried to catch her breath, to calm down, to regain control.

"Food was not important," she answered honestly. "Nothing was. I…could hardly remember to breathe, Aragorn. I could not find a way to live without you."

His eyes were dark as a stormy sky. "And these scratches…wounds…"

"They were by my hands."

" _Arwen…_ "

"Stop," she said, and she shook her head slowly. "It was not your fault. None of it was."

"Oh, it was all my fault," he refuted her. "I should never have left. And what happened with Erumar…" His voice caught on her name and he had to swallow before he could speak again. "What happened, what I felt…what I _did_ …the way I _touched_ her…"

"I know," she said softly, and in her mind's eye she was back in that moment, remembering what it was like to see her astride him. She trembled with the force of it, the panic, the horrible betrayal… "I saw it. I…had a vision."

"Then…you _know_ …you _saw_ me… _us…_ " His horrified voice cut through her. _Oh, Ilúvatar…kill me…you saw?_ "I did not lie with her," he choked out, "but it was _so close…_ "

"I felt you," she whispered.

"You saved me," he told her, but he was unable to look in her eyes. "Your touch made me stop, forced my mind through the haze and made me realize what was happening."

Her fingertips rubbed his hand. "All I felt was the first part…I did not understand."

"I am ashamed of what happened between us." His voice was a harsh whisper. "I have sinned against you and betrayed your trust. I am not worthy to—"

"You did not break your oath to me," she replied, her voice fervent. "You are no adulterer, beloved."

"She did not know what she was doing, yet she came to me. I was so wounded and the herb so powerful…yet I feel that is an excuse. I could…I touched her with _these_ hands…the same ones touching you now…"

"These are my hands," she told him gently. "You pledged them to me and have touched no one else when you were in sound mind."

"'In sound mind,'" he quoted her quietly, looking even more ashamed. "If I had not been so wounded, I might have known what was happening," he added bitterly. "She…spoke something Ethring told her to say…something about giving me what I needed, what I wanted…"

"She was to bear you a son," Arwen agreed, but her whole body shuddered under him as she said the words. "The source of our pain. Nardur said as much to me: that Erumar and I were so similar in every way, and that it…would be perfect…that you would bring the child to me and everyone would think it was ours."

He lowered his head to right shoulder, resting his weight not on her but on his elbows on the bed; she forced her hand up to hold the back of his tunic. His voice was still full of horror when he said, "How could he even _suggest_ —?"

"It was not his words that destroyed my heart," she replied painfully. "It was my realization that he was _right_. _That_ was what tore me apart. It would have been so easy to let you love her, to let you lie with her and bear you a child…and then accept that child as if it were mine."

" _No…no…_ "

"But I was not strong enough to bear the pain of it," she added hoarsely. "I could not bear the thought of you with another, even…even when it was so _logical._ When it made so much sense to choose her…"

He lifted his head then to look into her face, and she reached over to wipe shed tears away with her thumb. "I…I _told_ you I would never…that I would _never_ choose another. Did you not _believe_ me?" he asked, horrified by her words. "Did you not remember—?"

"I remembered, beloved…" she replied. "I remembered every word in every moment I despaired over losing you for the past month. They weighed so heavily on my heart! Your words were all I thought of…and how painful it was!"

He forced his hands to find her face, to hold her still so that he could look into her eyes. "Will you believe me now? Can we promise to believe in each other?"

Arwen's eyes filled with tears again, just as his did. "Oh…Aragorn…"

"I will _never_ choose another. Never ever never. I am yours, and yours alone. I will not live without you. You must trust this, Arwen, forever. You are my life, my wife, the one I cherish. No matter what, I will never take another, for _any_ reason. I would die first."

Her lips trembled. "Please, do not say that."

"I mean every word," he said fervently.

"Even…even if I…am…?"

"You are _not_ barren," he said fiercely. "You must stop saying it. You were with child once and you will be again."

"Let us turn and face this," she said, forcing her voice to be stronger. "What if I am?"

" _No,_ Arwen," he began firmly and she interrupted him.

"Yes! What if I am truly barren and I _never_ bear you a son? What if I never bear a child?"

"I would die before choosing someone else," he stated again, his voice still fierce. "I have already answered this question, too many times! Do you still not hear me? Why do you still refuse to believe?"

"Aragorn, I mean this," she said, her voice fervent.

"As do I."

"How can your line be carried on without a son? In that place, Nardur was right."

"He was _wrong,_ " Aragorn hissed in a low voice, angry now. " _He will always be wrong!_ He is a fiend, a—"

"Who will rule Gondor when you finally lay yourself down?" she interrupted him, her eyes hard. "We _must_ face this!"

He sat back, taking her hands in his as he went, not removing his eyes from hers. She could nearly feel the storm brewing, see the frustration in his face. "I will face it then, if that is what you want. You want me to explain with all frankness exactly what will happen if we are childless. So be it," he stated firmly. "As I shall never have anyone at my side but you, and I shall never accept another woman into my bed, then I shall leave this world without an heir to my throne." The most obstinate look appeared on his face, his jaw firm and set; she had never had that look turned toward her before. "Therefore _this_ shall be the result: upon my death, the worthiest of the sons of the Prince of Ithilien shall rule in my stead and long will they have mercy and rule in wisdom over the Reunited Kingdom. There will be no other decision made; this will be law. If I die childless, so be it."

She turned her face aside. "You are impossible."

"Nothing else can be done," he stated. "I will continue to love you until the stars burn out. Nothing can stop that now. Nothing ever _could_ stop it; not since the moment we met." He sighed, releasing his frustration and squeezing her hands. "Look at me, Arwen." She slowly looked back at him. "Will you not accept my word? Nothing has been in jest. I mean every word. I can…I _will_ seal it in blood, if necessary."

"Do not say such things!"

"Then my word should be enough for you," he stressed, leaning forward as his eyes pierced hers. "Is my love not enough? I will never love another; I will never want more than what we have together."

Her eyes closed and then met his again. "Your love has ever been enough, Aragorn," she whispered. "It is why I am breathing right now." She paused, hesitating, and he noticed.

"Then what is it?"

"What…what do we tell the people?"

"To bloody have patience!" he whispered fiercely. "If I have a child two years before I die, the only regret that I will have is that I will not get to see him live." He pressed his lips to her hands several times. "Arwen, I will not run from this. I chose to marry an elf, and I will reap the joys and sorrows of that union. Hang the Gondorians who expect too much of a King who sometimes only wants to be a man." He sighed, a lump in his throat, and she felt the weight of the world in him as he rested his brow upon her hands. "Oh… _god_ … _who just wants to be a man_ … _a man who loves you and you alone…_ "

She slipped her hands out of his and drew his face down to her breast, ignoring any discomfort simply to hold him close. She was silent, letting the two of them just _be_ for a moment. "Sometimes," she whispered soothingly, her breath close on the top of his head, "I forget that you are a man just as much as you are a King. I…am sorry, Aragorn. I am sorry that at times it seems your love for me is not enough. It is. _It is_. And I am sorry that I question you too much when I should have faith." She pressed her lips to the top of his head. "Can you forgive me?"

"You saw the child," he told her softly and tears filled her eyes. "And I saw him as clear as you once did. We _will_ have a child, Arwen. _We will._ And you, in all your infinite and ageless wisdom must believe that we will. No more despair, beloved. No more."

She hesitated at his whispered words, and it was only because he mentioned her vision of the child. The fear of being barren rushed into her once more, and for the first time in seven years she was able to collect herself enough to release the feelings to Ilúvatar. He had brought her back from the dead; there must have been a reason. He was nothing if not faithful; she needed to have her faith return and trust him more.

"No more," she agreed, and she felt him sigh.

"I forgive you," he whispered. He felt her fingers slowly drag themselves through his hair and he closed his eyes. "I can only pray that we will never be separated like this ever again."

"Pray with me," she asked him, and he nodded. "It is…so hard to have faith sometimes."

"It is difficult to be patient," he murmured, and _she_ nodded. There was silence for a moment.

"Let me begin."

"All right."

"Father," she whispered, and her eyes already filled, "I call out to you tonight from a place of gratitude. You have returned and restored my husband to me; not only safely, but everything is made right again. My dearest Lord, I pray that I will be as faithful to him as he has been to me; that you would keep me steadfast and keep my eyes fixed on the things that matter…and wait patiently on your time." Her voice cut out and he felt her tremble beneath him before she continued. "Oh, god, help me to be patient! It is so hard to remember what we had and fear that it will never be again. I beg you, Father, that you would help me remember that I need you every moment; that it is only you that can heal me in my desperation. Please…be at my side.

"Father, I thank you for the honesty, the integrity, of my beloved. I thank you for his strength, for his compassion, for his care. I bless your name for his goodness and his mercy. I praise you for his love for me. I pray for him: that you would give him strength to recover quickly, strength to keep his faith. Lord, he has such beautiful hope in you. May he continue to teach me what it means to have faith, to trust you completely…and may I learn the lesson anew each day."

Aragorn swallowed. "Ilúvatar, may I ever praise you; may your name ever be on my lips. You control the universe; you care for the sparrow, how much more will you care for me? You have rescued me, you gave me strength when I had none. You gave me words to speak to Legolas so he would understand and help me; you helped me to arrive in the blink of an eye so that I might save Arwen from death; you restored her to health. I pray continually for her, Father: for her faith, for peace within her deepest heart, for strength so that she might trust in you. Help me, Father, to be her husband and her guide; help me to lead her and point her to you. Help me to continue to bless her heart with love and joy. And when she does despair, my Lord…help me to guide her, help me to comfort her, help her to listen."

" _Yes, Father_ …" Arwen choked out.

"And when I despair, Father, may her ever-present love be a light for me. May the comfort of her healing presence, my joy in her, ever remind me that you are in control. You brighten our darkness and lead us in the way everlasting. Lord, help me follow you and obey your commands. May we trust you for the smallest thing to the most desperate desire of our hearts…and oh, Father, you know what that is. May we bless you forever. Amen."

"Thy will be done, Father," Arwen whispered. " _Amen._ " She sighed softly and so did he. "I love you."

"And I love you," he replied as she stroked her fingers through his hair again.

"Aragorn," Arwen asked quietly, "is Enguina here?"

"Yes," he answered. "Legolas as well. Hildanir and Mennev are out in the stable keeping watch on Nardur—they will not allow him near the house."

"Is…is Enguina very angry with me?" she asked. "Is that why they have not come?"

"You have been asleep much of the time you have been here," he reminded her, "and Legolas has been here several times. But no, that is not the reason. Enguina had clearly noticed you were gone and she _had_ gone after you into the woods. She had not been gone long when she stumbled upon Nardur riding through the woods searching for the house so that he could kill you."

"He threatened her," Arwen added quietly and Aragorn nodded.

"Yes."

"It…was the only thing that made me fight him," she continued in the same tone. "If he had not made the mistake in saying it to me…"

"Thank heaven he did," he interjected, her fingers still in his hair. "Before he came to you, he said and did several terrible things to her. After their confrontation, Enguina discovered that she was in labor."

" _What_?" Arwen gasped, staring at the top of his head. "In—?"

"Yes, she was in labor. Luckily, Legolas arrived just in time to help her back here and—"

" _And?_ "

She felt him smile against her chest. "And she is doing well, and the two of them have a newborn baby boy." He felt her breath catch against his cheek, and then he heard her cry of joy in his head.

"Oh, I praise you Lord," Arwen whispered. "How marvelous are your deeds! How great and mighty your name!" He felt her entwine her fingers with his hair and he sighed.

"There were some struggles during the labor," he said truthfully, "but the babe was fine, and Legolas did very well. That was why I was missing from your side yesterday."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"You needed rest. You still do," he added.

"Tell me about him, please," she begged, and he smiled again.

"He is fair and beautiful," he told her. "Blonde, very little hair…lively blue eyes…tiny, pointed ears…little hands and little feet…"

"I wish we could see him now."

"Perhaps in a day or so," he replied, "when you are well enough to sit up and are not in as much pain." He slowly lifted his head and leaned forward to brush his lips to hers.

"And you?" she whispered. "When will you feel better? When will you not be in pain?"

He smiled. "When you are well again."

She shook her head slowly and he heard her laugh softly. "Oh…you know how to stretch the truth, beloved."

He sighed and shook his head, sitting up a bit more. "After a long rest," he answered honestly. "We both need it. Time away. Time to be alone. To heal."

"I…saw what happened…with the warg…"

"You saw it?" he asked, confused.

"I had a vision of you as you were attacked," she told him. "It was horrifying...and I did not want to believe it, but…it was real." Her eyes were so tired and her words were slightly slurred as she spoke to him. He reached out and gently traced over her jaw. "We prayed for you, that you would be safe."

"I am," he replied. "I am here with you, and we are both safe. We owe that to Ilúvatar." He smiled at her gently. "You are exhausted again."

"I…cannot seem to keep my eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time," she whispered. "Forgive me."

"You need time to build up your strength again. Hildanir said you are healing, but…your body needs time." He noticed her chewing her lower lip and he tilted his head. "What is it?"

"I wish that…I wish that I had always been honest with you," she whispered, and he looked concerned. "It only now strikes me that…if I had been honest with you from the first, if I had told you about _all_ of my fears, _all_ of my dreams…if I had believed them…"

"What are you talking about?" he asked gently.

"I…had several dreams of a dark-haired woman…and you, together," she whispered, her eyes closing. "I thought they were only my fears…but they _were_ not. They were a vision. Just of you and the warg…and if I had told you…if I had only…" He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "If I had told you, at least you might have… _known_ …"

"Been warned," he added. "But I would never have thought Erumar…" He shook his head. "Oh beloved…we must simply live, and learn." He said the words gently. "And we promised each other we would never hide anything from one another again."

"Never again," she whispered. "I swear it."

"And that I will love you as you deserve, to be cherished, for no other reason," he said in the same soft voice.

"And that I will trust Ilúvatar for every moment, good or bad. He is in control." She sighed, stroking his chin with a finger. "Let his will be done."

"Three promises," he reminded her. "We will not forget them."

She nodded, and then her eyes drooped again. Still, she had the presence of mind to say, "I want to see the baby."

He smiled. "Perhaps later." He nodded toward the table nearby. "There is food and water here. Are you hungry?"

She smiled, but shook her head. "No…just tired. And I truly need a bath."

Aragorn gave her a rueful smile. "No baths yet. Your wounds need repairing first. It is possible I could help with at least your hair-washing? Lifting your arms might be…painful at first."

"And it will not be for you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bent forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. "A sacrifice I will make for you to have clean hair." He was teasing her of course; there was that lilt in his voice.

But she was not ready. She nibbled her lower lip. "I…am not…" she hesitated. _I am not ready for you to…see_ _ **me**_ _…see what I have done…_

She watched the corners of his eyes tighten, but that was the only outward sign he gave. "I _have_ seen," he admitted softly. He gently laid a hand against her chest; her breasts were covered by the tunic and the bandages, but there were scratches on her skin that could not be shielded by the cloth, and he had already seen her legs. "You need not fear me," he continued in the same soft voice. "Nothing is going to change how I love you. _Nothing._ "

She closed her eyes and sighed. "You… _have_ seen me at my worst."

"And best," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead again. "It is time for you to rest if you want nothing to eat."


	57. FIN: Chapter 57

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy the end of the story! I'm not sure what my next project will be-perhaps some short stories of moments that I truly want to write, and I promised an Eldarion birth short-story, too (I didn't forget! LOL). I have two other LONG stories (one of the engagement of Ag/Ar in Lothlorien, and one that takes place seventeen years after this story) , but they need to be seriously edited before I start posting them, so that might be a little while. In any case, be on the lookout if you like, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for sticking around until the end!

* * *

Legolas re-entered the bedroom to find his wife awake. Once again and to his dismay, he had made a short trip down to Arwen's room to see how she was only to see that she was once again asleep. At least he had been able to speak with Aragorn, who certainly looked much better than he had the first few days. Clearly, recovery was doing him some good as well as her. They had talked of the babe for a little while, Legolas also providing updates on Enguina's healing. But he did not want to be from her side or the babe's for long so he told Aragorn that soon both of them would be down to see them.

It was, therefore, nearly morning when Legolas entered their bedroom again. Enguina looked a bit grumpy as she lay on the bed, watching their sleeping son. He gave her a smile, but she only raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no," he murmured teasingly, "what is the matter?"

"I refuse to lie here any longer," she replied. "I want a bath."

"A bath?" Legolas asked, his smile spreading as he came near. "Then a bath you shall have, _moina_. Here, let me— _Guin…_ "

She had already sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, carefully, but not slowly. Legolas was a bit alarmed, but took the last to steps to her side to take her arm. "Guin, let me—"

"Just hold onto me," she interrupted him. "I need to stand on my own two feet." She rose, a bit unsteadily, and her robe fell open as one hand reached to hold his arm and the other to hold her stomach. "Ugh," she muttered, her lower half aching all at once, "I feel as though I have pulled every muscle." She winced after taking a step. "The stitches you mentioned are not feeling so wonderful either."

"You could have at least waited until I was sure the bath was ready," Legolas protested softly.

He heard the smile in her voice as she replied, "Oh, me? Why would I ever do that? I am far too impatient."

"Mmmm," he muttered in reply as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Are you sure you want to—"

"I _need_ a bath. I am a filthy mess. I am _desperate_ to wash my hair." She sighed. "And the faster I am up and moving, the faster I get to see Arwen, who has been awake and functioning for several days and though we are living in the same house, we have _yet_ to see one another." She sighed again. "I have no idea what I will be able to clean, though. It might be a challenge—"

"I will be right here by your side," he said soothingly, helping her down the hall as he held her robe closed with his other hand.

She gave him a little smile. "Hmmm. _Now_ who is worried about propriety?"

"Obviously me," he responded. "Hildanir has been in the house several times, and it would deeply embarrass you both, and infuriate me, if he were to see you…barely clothed." They moved into the bath and Legolas shoved the door closed with his foot.

"And here I thought you were the one who stated that you would like me to walk about naked for the rest of my days."

He could hear her laughter in his head as he rolled his eyes as he released her robe, taking a good, long look at her before he met her eyes. "That I did. And I meant every word. But I certainly do not want to be sharing you with _other_ eyes. We belong to each other, you know. No one else."

"I love it when you say that," she said. Surprisingly enough, she noticed there was clean, hot water in the tub already. She looked up at him. "How did you know?"

"I know you," he said simply, slipping her robe from her shoulders and eyeing her from the back.

"I see you," she murmured, but she did not blush. "I feel your eyes on me."

He gave a low chuckle. "Attempting not to touch," he said in an equally low voice.

She glanced back over her shoulder and gave him a grimace. "It might be…some time before that is possible."

He gave her a smirk. " _Moina,_ I could touch you now if I wished even if it would not lead anywhere." She smiled at him, and then looked back to the tub. "But never mind that…into the bath with you."

She sighed. "I do not know if I can lift my leg in there," she admitted honestly.

He chuckled and stepped up behind her, kissing her shoulder as he looked down at the end of the tub. "Let me lift you, my Princess."

"If you can do it very carefully," she murmured. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck.

"When am I nothing if not careful with you, _moina_?" She felt him smile and she removed the rest of her garments, which were few. Then he bent to scoop her ever-so-gently from her feet and into his arms so he could lower her into the tub. She immediately let out a sigh of relief as the hot water began soothing all of her aches and pains.

She leaned her head back, neck bent over the edge of the tub. "Oh…praise Ilúvatar…Valinor must be exactly like this…" He grinned, listening to her sigh. Then, he scooped some water into his hands and gently began wetting her hair. "Legolas…" she murmured, "you do not need to—"

"I want to," he interrupted her gently. "Just relax, Guin. You deserve to rest in here for a little while and enjoy it." After he wet her hair, he began running his fingers through it, covering it with soap and cleaning it, massaging her scalp as he went. Her ecstasy at what he was doing was evident in her sighs, but also in his mind. She was clearly pleased, and he was happy to give her the pleasure of a head massage while the baby was resting. She had worked _so_ hard, and the mother of his child deserved to be pampered.

She was almost asleep; he could tell in the way her mind drifted in his. He gave her this few moments, but after rubbing his hands with more soap, he began rubbing it all over her— _very_ carefully. The last thing he wanted was to bring her any more pain. He reached into the tub and held one foot as he dragged his hands to her knee before bringing it back down.

"Is this all right?" he asked softly, and she slowly opened her eyes to look at him.

"All right?" she questioned. "Nay, this is _heavenly._ Eru in heaven, Legolas, _never_ stop, I beg you." He chuckled at her as he moved to the other leg. "I may pretend that I can no longer bathe myself any more, simply so that I can let you do it."

"Perhaps we should save it for special occasions?" he teased her. "You might grow tired of it."

"Oh no…" she whispered, "I could never grow tired of those hands."

He laughed at her words, but then bent over and kissed her. Her hands immediately came up out of the water and wrapped around the back of his head, holding him there even as he was about to lean back from the kiss. She dragged it on, enjoying every second of him; the kiss grew more heated as her fingers tangled into his hair. She only finally released him when both of them were struggling to breathe; only then did he return to bathing her.

"I love you," she said simply, and though he smiled, he gave his full attention to massaging her belly beneath the water. Her eyes rolled closed. "Tell me something of Arwen. You left the room, so you must have seen her, spoken with her."

"Every time I have left the room to see her, she has been asleep," Legolas sighed honestly. "Though her color is much better, and she appears to be recovering. Hildanir has been taking care of her wounds and changing bandages, and Aragorn has not left her side. He had said she was awake and had spoken with him, but she is very tired as you have been, though for very different reasons."

Enguina was quiet for a moment as he rubbed her shoulders. "Bandages? So she was wounded?"

Legolas thought back to their conversation earlier, and realized he had never stated that Arwen had not only been unwell in the woods. "Nardur had attacked her, intending to kill her," he replied. "Aragorn came across her in the ideal moment to save her life."

Enguina sighed. "Of course he did."

"Does that…does it disappoint you?" Legolas asked, his voice hesitating, wondering what she could mean by the words.

"She was out there _because_ of him, and then he _rescues_ her," Enguina muttered. "The two images of the man cannot reconcile with one another in my head." She paused a moment and then continued again. "I…cannot help but be grudgingly grateful to him…for saving her life, for saving the babe's life…"

"For saving _your_ life," Legolas pointed out gently.

"Yes, I suppose," Enguina stated wryly.

"So…have you decided to call him friend again?"

"If I were being honest," she said, giving him a withering look, "not to his face."

"Give it some time," he replied easily, soaping up her shoulders and giving her a massage while doing it. "He will be back in your good graces soon enough." She was silent for a moment.

"I…suppose it does not matter, as long as Arwen is not attempting suicide and…is returning to health." She frowned. "I do not know why I am finding it so difficult to forgive him, in my head. Perhaps it is because I have not seen him as you have…"

"Perhaps," he replied gently. "Or perhaps it is as you say, that you do not forgive as easily." He pressed his lips to her temple.

"One of my many faults," she admitted.

"We all have them," he agreed. "Mine is certainly my temper."

"That is mine as well," she disagreed. "You shall have to find another."

"Overprotectiveness," he said immediately. "And an unwillingness to compromise."

She relaxed further against the tub once more, leaning her head forward so he could lay his hands on her neck. "Mmmm, those are crimes indeed."

He chuckled and kissed her temple again. "Do you think you might have some desire for the sitting room tonight? Perhaps Hildanir or Mennev—"

"Not the sitting room," she said, "but Arwen's room, perhaps, if the babe is fed and comfortable and she is feeling well enough."

"Yes," Legolas agreed, "well enough." _Not well, but, well enough._ That was probably the best they could hope for at this early stage. Enguina tilted her head back again, glancing over at him.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do you hear the baby?"

He shook his head. "No, I am sure he is sleeping still. I was only thinking. Let me finish your bath so you can relax for a little longer."

"Thank you," she said softly, and he leaned in to kiss her one more time.

* * *

Aragorn had _just_ stepped out of Arwen's room to locate some dinner for the two of them when the sound of running and thumping on the porch startled the man. He had a moment to prepare before Hildanir burst through the front door, breathing hard.

"Elessar!" he said, spotting the man immediately. "You must come at once!"

"What is it? What is the matter?"

"It would be best for you to see for yourself, I am afraid," he said, still breathless.

"Lead on," he said, and turned to follow the younger man outside, yanking on his boots near the door as he did so. He limped off the porch and trailed behind Hildanir, stiff from lack of movement from staying beside his recovering wife. At least his hip was only aching—he wondered vaguely how long that was going to take to stop. Once off the porch into the darkness lit only by a narrow moon, however, he could see the ruckus that was happening within the pasture fence. Horses were rearing and whinnying, snorting and stamping. Brego and Asfaloth were flying around the pasture, tearing up great clumps of grass and snow, and Lómë and Brethil were nearest the fence, stamping and snorting.

Aragorn stared at them as they neared, astounded. "What has gotten into them, Hildanir?"

"I'm afraid we've failed in our duty, my Lord," Mennev said, walking towards them. Aragorn had not even noticed him until he spoke. He should have; he held a lantern in his hand to help them see in the evening's fading light.

"What duty? One of you speak clearly!" He was frustrated now, feeling as though he was missing something, and worried that Nardur had escaped their custody was a fear he did _not_ wish to be feeling at all right now. He felt the tension increase in his shoulders a hundred-fold. "Nardur—"

"Nearly escaped, but now is _dead_ ," Hildanir said, as Mennev nodded.

"Aye," agreed Mennev. "I'm afraid your horses saw to that."

"The horses— _what_?" The confusion on Aragorn's face was apparent. "How did he nearly escape?"

"Apparently, Nardur made it out the back door of the barn and into the pasture. My assumption is that he was trying to steal a horse—" Mennev snorted.

"That didn't work out as well as he'd hoped."

Hildanir nodded. "By the time we made it out here, it was nearly over. Between Asfaloth, Brego, Brethil and Lómë, he did not last long, and it was…"

"A rather violent end!" added Mennev. "Never seen that much carnage from animals, 'cept when I saw a soldier gored by a bull once. Well, anyway," he said with a nod over his shoulder and pointing with his chin, "he's over there by the fence. We dragged what was left of 'im out over there."

Aragorn followed him over, but it was clear before he got very near the man was very dead indeed. Hildanir sighed. "By your leave, Elessar, now that he cannot stand trial, I will give the man a proper burial in the morning. Though he was not honorable in life, he does not deserve to be burned as a common criminal."

"He _was_ your uncle," Mennev pointed out, and Hildanir shook his head stubbornly, crossing his arms.

"He was no relation of _mine_."

Aragorn nodded, remembering Hildanir's disowning words. "Let me speak with my friends here and find out what really happened." He turned to the horses, who by now were all standing along the fence in a row. He reached up and out to Brego's neck as the horse leaned over.

Lómë threw his head into the air. "[Proud of us you should be.]" Lómë's voice was deep.

"[Took care of a problem for you we did,]" whinnied Asfaloth strongly, plunging his foot into the snow several times. "[Which taken care of already should have been.]"

"[Well-deserved!]" shouted Brethil.

"[Indeed! Well-deserved!]" cried Radost, shoving between Brethil and Lómë and thrusting herself to the front. Lómë reached down and nipped her withers and she kicked up her heels in protest.

Aragorn sighed, looking straight at Brego. "The councilman was to stand trial in Minas Tirith, friends. Brego, you knew this."

The bay leaned forward and nudged Aragorn in the center of his chest. "[Takes too long the human way does. Served is justice when done our way.]"

"[Faster!]" stated Lómë.

"[Well-deserved!]" said Brethil again. "[Gone through many trials before anything done would be. _Long_ justice.]"

Lómë, ears flattened against his head, snapped at the top board of the fence and pawed the ground repeatedly. "[To ride _me_ was his aim! As if allow it would I!]"

"[Could not be forgotten what he had done,]" Brego said, nosing Aragorn's chest again.

"[Enguina!]" cried Lómë.

"[The small one!]" whinnied Brethil.

"[Arwen!]" Asfaloth snorted, half-rearing up.

"[Your pain,]" Brego added more quietly, snuffling along Aragorn's breast. The man stroked the bay's star.

"But our law—"

"[ _Your_ law!]" snorted Radost, shaking her shaggy mane.

"[Not ours,]" reminded Lómë. "[Deserved he did, to die. Nothing less.]"

"[See Enguina you did not,]" added Brethil. "[Carry her you did not.]"

Aragorn bowed his head, laying his hand alongside Brego's jaw. "No, you are right, Brethil, I did not. Seeing Arwen was enough for me. I do not have to like it, but…I do understand."

"[Rightfully so.]" Radost stomped her foot. "[Understand us most humans do not.]"

"[Enguina? The little one?]" asked Lómë, leaning close to Aragorn. Suddenly the man smiled.

"It is a boy." Brethil reared up in joy and Lómë added his voice to the grey's. The two of them took off across the pasture, leaping and bucking with Radost close behind them. Only Asfaloth and Brego remained, with the grey stepping close enough to Aragorn to prod his shoulder with his lips.

"[My dear one?]" he whuffled softly. "[Queen of White Tower?]"

"She is doing better now, recovering," he said softly. Brego blinked, but said nothing.

Asfaloth sighed. "[Glad am I. Relieved to know that not unfaithful were you. My wrath swift would have been. Die…and painfully.]"

"Praise Ilúvatar," said Aragorn with a soft chuckle, though he knew the horse was very serious. "I would not want to be in the light of your anger, Asfaloth."

Brego pushed Asfaloth with his shoulder. "[Foolish. To have believed him not!]"

"[Dying she was,]" the grey insisted. "[Feel it, and do nothing about it could I.]"

"As soon as she feels better, I am certain that she will be out here to see you both."

Brego nosed him. "[Return to her you should. For the evil one worry no more.]"

Asfaloth turned aside and Brego followed close behind him. Hildanir, and Mennev close behind with his lantern, leaned on the pasture fence beside him.

"You truly _can_ speak with them," Hildanir murmured softly.

"Was that what was happenin'?" asked Mennev, confused.

Aragorn smiled. "Nardur tried to ride Lómë. They would not let him, and so they killed him."

"That's it?" Mennev asked with a frown. "That's all the explanation we'll get?"

"To them, it is all that is needed. To them, he deserved death, and so they passed judgment."

"Our way is too slow," Hildanir said. "Faster, easier, their way. Justice is done quickly."

"That was what they said. But our way does protect the innocent," Aragorn added softly. "Someone has time to prove they are not guilty; the truth must be found out. In this case, that was not necessary. But in some circumstances…the fast, easy way may not be the best."

The two men nodded slowly. Aragorn straightened carefully. "Come gentlemen. It is time for supper. And as you have no one left to guard, you might as well sleep inside tonight."

"Cheers," said Hildanir, with a smile, and he took Aragorn's arm.

"Wonder if the Prince's got any ale about?"

* * *

It was dark for sure outside and Hildanir and Mennev were now sound asleep in the sitting room; Aragorn had not asked Legolas if it was all right, but he figured it would be. The two men had done everything they could to protect them and deserved a good night's sleep in a comfortable place after sleeping in a barn for several nights. In the morning, Mennev would be heading to Henneth Annûn so that a messenger could be sent to Minas Tirith to report on the condition of the King and Queen; they would remain in Ithilien to heal and recover and then return in the spring. Aragorn was _so grateful_ for them, especially Hildanir and his unfailing loyalty to both him…and the beautiful woman he once again held in his arms.

She had been determined to sit up after dinner with the two men, and though she was tired, she was also determined to stay awake. Aragorn was unwilling to let her sit up on her own, so he was now seated carefully behind her, keeping her upright, his arms loosely around her waist, avoiding her still-healing ribs. She _wanted_ to be over in Enguina's room, but there was no way she was ready to walk anywhere, and there was no way Aragorn could have carried her. He still did not wish to disturb Legolas, or Enguina especially, so they remained where they were.

Leaning her head back against his left shoulder, she carefully pressed her lips to his neck, feeling the acute relief of having him beside her. Aragorn kissed her forehead and sighed.

"I cannot thank Ilúvatar enough for the blessing of you being returned to me," she whispered. "For you to still be mine…to be lying here in your arms." She felt him kiss her again and again as she pressed her lips to his skin again. "You and I…we need to have one another. Without you…there is nothing but darkness." She breathed him in; he had bathed very early in the morning, and she had allowed him to gently sponge bathe her on the bed even if she was self-conscious about what she had done. She had napped for three hours afterward and so had he; bathing had drained all of their strength, and she had never known a bath to be so exhausting. Her hair was braided, which he had done himself even though she had tried to protest; _he_ was determined to make her feel clean and well. Oh, how she loved him!

 _Ilúvatar in heaven, you smell so good._

He smiled against her forehead. _You are tired._ He reveled in the feel of her in his mind. After being so separated for so long, it was intoxicating to feel her, to know her thoughts.

 _Yes, but I mean every word._ _Aragorn…Aragorn…_ She whispered his name, the memories she had of him that flowed over her were delight, not pain to her now. _I cannot stop feeling grateful…that we are one again. That I have you. You were so right…I could survive everything the world could give me, but not the loss of you…never that._

He kissed her forehead again, loving her. _I swear…you will never lose me. Nothing will ever come between us like this again. We belong to each other. I will never leave you, and I will always love you._

"I will never leave you, and I will always love you," she whispered back, aloud as well as in her mind. He lifted a hand and laid it against her chest, _very_ gently.

"How are you feeling?"

"How are _you_ feeling?" she asked him, smiling.

"I did ask you first, but I will answer. Sore, but recovering." She watched as the fingers on his right hand curled slowly into a fist. "My strength will return in time."

"As will mine," she replied softly. Then she added more honestly, "My shoulder is aching and my chest hurts…but it will heal, and fade with time."

"You should be lying down."

"So should you," she murmured. "Yet you have done nothing but hold me since before Hildanir and Mennev went out, may Ilúvatar bless them."

He sighed. "My arms cannot seem to let you go." She tucked her head gently beneath his chin and he rested his cheek upon hers. "If we fall asleep like this, I will be just as content."

There was comfortable silence between them, and then there was a light knock upon the doorframe. Both of them looked up and were surprised to see Legolas standing there.

"Do you two mind some company?" he asked with a smile. "There are strange men sleeping in my sitting room."

"Strange men?" said Aragorn. "I think you know them, but come in, Legolas."

He stepped inside the room as Arwen struggled to turn her head. He held out a hand as he walked over to the bed, reaching to touch hers. "No, no…do not move on my account. It is good to see you awake. We are blessed that you will be well again."

"Thank you," she said, moved simply by looking at him, when she never thought she would ever see him again. Thoughts passed between them as he smiled at her when she could not say anything more aloud.

"You seem better even now then last evening when I saw you resting." He turned and glanced at the door. "Enguina, are you coming in? There is a chair here for you."

Aragorn lifted his head, and he felt Arwen's pulse race through her temple against his neck.

"Coming!" They heard her call back and Legolas laughed.

"Why are you here without her?" asked Aragorn, confused.

He shook his head. "She wanted to 'do it herself.' She was determined." He held up his hands. "So I let her."

Arwen swallowed her emotions. "We are so happy for you, Legolas," she added, thinking of their new reason to rejoice.

He grinned at her. "Thank you! Wait until you—"

And then Enguina was in the doorway with a bundle in her arms and Legolas turned and Arwen's eyes met Enguina's. The older elf had no eyes for anything else but her friend as she made her way to the bed.

"Do you want to sit?" Legolas asked, and Enguina shook her head.

"Not yet." She barely got the words out before she was choked up and she ignored the fact that the object of her past distress was holding her friend at the moment and leaned down to kiss her roughly on the cheek. "Do not _ever_ frighten me like that again." The whispered words were fiercely loving and they brought tears to Arwen's eyes.

"I am so sorry…forgive me…forgive me for all of it…"

"I thought we would never see you again," she said, leaning back, still staring into Arwen's eyes as she caressed her cheek once. "I thought you would never see _him_."

"Neither did I," she whispered back.

Enguina continued to lean back and her eyes caught on Aragorn's face; much as she had tried to avoid it, he was too close to Arwen's head for her to miss. She tensed, and she felt Legolas's hand on her back, ready to do what, she was not sure. What surprised her was that Aragorn was not even looking at her; his eyes were cast down, and it was clear by the set of his brow and the way he would not meet her eyes that there was only one reason he was not looking at her. He knew very well what she felt for him, and he was very much ashamed.

And suddenly, looking at them in that moment, tears in Arwen's eyes, the way her head rested against the crook of his neck, the way he held her so securely and protectively in his embrace…everything she had felt about what had happened faded away. Legolas was _right_ : this _was_ the same man that she knew, that she _had known_ , the same man who had saved her life and helped lift her from a pit of despair. Whatever he had done, she knew he had not meant a bit of it. Arwen would be restored; there was peace in her eyes already, and he…well, she had no right to think anything less than _thank_ _Ilúvatar_ that he had been restored to the man she knew.

She reached out with one hand and laid it on his hair and gently stroked his head once. Then she lowered her hand back to the baby she held against her chest, but it was enough that Aragorn lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes did not hold the resentment he had expected, but relief.

"I have to praise Eru that you are the same man we all knew you to be," she said softly, and Legolas's hand on her back became an arm around her waist. "You saved my life…you saved my son's life…I should be nothing less than grateful."

He met her gaze, and Arwen felt his arms tighten just a little and her hands did, too, on his arms. "Can you forgive me, Enguina?" he asked. "What was done…was _terribly_ wrong but it was not with malicious intent. And I—"

"I forgive you," she whispered. "But help me to never let anything like this ever happen again? None of us will survive it."

He nodded and swallowed around the painful lump in his throat, and Legolas let out a soft breath. " _I_ cannot help but be grateful that we are all here once more together…and that we have a new life to celebrate." He immediately brightened. "Enguina, you sit here on the bed and let them look at our son. I will return in moments."

She sat down on the end of the bed and Aragorn and Arwen fixed their eyes on the precious face of the sleeping little one as Legolas hurriedly left the room. Tears formed in Arwen's eyes as she looked down on the precious thing, a tiny shock of near-white hair on the top of his head. She gasped as Enguina leaned carefully so they could really see him.

"Oh…Enguina, he is _so_ beautiful," she whispered.

"Yes, beautiful," agreed Aragorn. "Perfect…ears and eyebrows and hands…"

She laughed, tears in hers at their words. "I think he is, too, but…he is mine, so…"

"So perfect, he is beyond words," Arwen said. "Precious…words cannot express…" She shook her head, at a loss. Aragorn rested his cheek upon the top of her head, and then he reached forward and stroked a single finger upon the babe's arm.

"Have you decided on a name, Enguina?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "It took us a little while, but we did."

"So," Legolas said, bursting back into the room and disrupting the moment, "Uncle Gimli gave me this tankard of ale from the Glittering Caves and told me that when we were all together we had to toast and drink to the baby's birth." He had four mugs in his hand and Enguina laughed at him as he drew near. "No better time than the present."

" _Legolas_ ," Enguina chided him, "Arwen is barely well enough to sit up, and we are going to have ale?"

"From the Glittering Caves, yes," he said, and gently extended the two mugs to Aragorn, who was grinning. "One sip of ale never hurt anyone."

The man took them, and Arwen, who finally pulled her eyes off the baby's face, smiled, too. "Can you hold mine?" she asked him. He knew her shoulder was nowhere near strong enough, and her wrist was not healed, so he nodded, setting the second mug on the dresser nearby. Instead, he held one for the both of them.

"Shall we toast then?" Legolas asked, grinning, and Arwen gave him a rueful smile.

"When someone finally tells us _who_ we are toasting to."

He looked at her and frowned. "Enguina did not even tell you his name?"

"You interrupted me, dearest," Enguina said with good humor. Arwen looked at the baby's face again, unable to help being so distracted by it.

"Do you wish to, or—"

"Please tell them," Enguina whispered, and he bent to kiss her gently before kissing his little boy on the forehead. He shifted in her arms, scrunching up his face and forehead before settling down again, one little arm waving for a brief second. Arwen was captivated by his movement, her mouth opening in awe as she watched him.

"Look at him," she whispered and Aragorn smiled.

"I saw," he replied. Then he raised his eyes to Legolas. "What did you choose?"

"Nórëdil," Legolas said, smiling at them. "We have decided to call him Nórëdil."

"Nórëdil," Arwen breathed, still staring at his face. To her amazement, she felt nothing but _love_ in her heart, overflowing for this little one. At some point, she might be overwhelmed by her loss again, by the desire of her heart, but not now; she was so grateful to Ilúvatar for healing her heart enough to love their son.

"He is beautiful," agreed Aragorn.

"So let us drink to Nórëdil," Legolas said, lifting his mug as Enguina and Aragorn did as well. "May this little Elvish Princeling, as Gimli would say," he said, as they all laughed and smiled, "live out his forever around a loving family. May his long life be blessed, the first of a new generation. May he know love, may he know joy, and may every trial he ever faces be there to teach him strength and hope in Ilúvatar. May he grow in faith, and may we dedicate ourselves to raising him up and teaching him surety of conviction, of hope, and of love."

"Here, here," said Aragorn taking a sip of the ale and then helping Arwen to do the same. He nodded. " _That_ is good ale." He nodded back toward the door. "If we do not have all of it here, you should share it with—"

"Done and done," Legolas said with a smile. "Mennev woke before I left the room. I may have toasted with them before I brought it in," he added sheepishly, and Enguina rolled her eyes.

"Here, hold this a moment," she asked him, and he took her mug. She leaned nearer to Arwen, whose eyes were on Nórëdil's face again. "Arwen, do you want to hold him?"

Her friend lifted her eyes suddenly, the request unexpected but in no way unwelcome.

"I would love to…though I do not know—"

"Let me help you," Aragorn told her gently, and as Enguina passed him over to them still asleep, Aragorn used his left arm to brace Arwen's so that he could help her support him. Then, the two of them laid their hands on the boy's little body. Nórëdil opened his eyes for just a moment—a flash of the brightest green, almost as if to see who was holding him now, and then closed them again, immediately falling back to sleep.

"Nórëdil," Arwen whispered, staring lovingly down into his face as she stroked his cheek with a gentle finger. "You are so beautiful, so blessed to have this loving family…"

Enguina reached over as she watched the two of them, Aragorn's large hand laying over Nórëdil's entire midsection, and took her mug carefully back from Legolas. "Thank you," she said, and then looked up at him as he kissed her gently. She raised her mug. "To family," she said, and Aragorn lifted his head to look at her. "For that is what we are, yes? A family, a large extended family. Not only elves, but of the world of men and even dwarves." She looked at Arwen, who tilted her face to meet her eyes. "Will you…will you…" Enguina hesitated as Legolas reached down and took her hand.

"Will you consent to being his guardians?" he asked for her. "That was what we wanted to ask you tonight. If you…would pledge yourselves, take the oaths, to be his guardians."

"Will you?" asked Enguina softly. "I know…I know this is—"

"We would be honored," Aragorn said, looking between the two of them.

"Delighted," Arwen whispered, her heart bursting with joy for her friends.

"Let us speak the words now," Aragorn said, and Enguina nodded, tears on her face, unable to speak. Aragorn lifted his hand and took Arwen's in his, laying them both down upon Nórëdil's body. Enguina reached over and laid hers on his, Legolas's on hers, tight enough to hold.

"Aragorn, Arwen," Legolas said softly, "do you today recognize Nórëdil as a gift from Ilúvatar and give heartfelt thanks for his blessing to us?"

"We do," they both said together.

"And will you pledge, as guardians, as Tirion and Tiriel, that with Ilúvatar's help you will help us to bring up Nórëdil in the discipline and instruction of the One, to build the character of Him into our son's life and bless him with your love and joy?"

"We will." Arwen's throat was so tight she could barely say the words.

"And will you pledge, as guardians, that you will care for this child as though he were your own; that you would give him every benefit that you would a child of your own blood; and that you would rise to his defense in times of trouble and celebrate in love in times of joy?"

"We will.

"Nórëdil, I pledge myself to be your Tirion," Aragorn said gently, looking into the babe's face.

"Nórëdil, I pledge myself to be your Tiriel," Arwen added, her voice as thick as Aragorn's.

"May this be binding," Legolas said gently. "May Ilúvatar bless this union of our family, final and enduring. What Ilúvatar has joined, let man never separate."

Enguina leaned forward and hugged them both, kissing Arwen's cheek. "How I love you both," she whispered. "Thank you…thank you for loving him."

"Yes," Legolas agreed. "Thank you. It…is not a simple pledge. Nothing can make light of that oath. We bless you for taking it." Enguina sat back and stroked Nórëdil's cheek.

"Anything sworn before Ilúvatar should not be easy," Aragorn replied, his arms tight around Arwen. All four of them were looking into Nórëdil's face.

"Do you want him back?" asked Arwen gently and Enguina shook her head.

"I have…all the time in the world to hold him," she whispered. "Let his Tiriel and Tirion hold him for a little while."

Arwen nodded, and bent her head slightly to press her lips to the babe's brow. Legolas cleared his throat and raised his mug.

"To family," he said, repeating Enguina's toast. "To _our_ family. To _this_ …this circle of love that extends and grows and is blessed by Ilúvatar. To the way the circle will grow in the future, to children, to love, to hope. May we be ever blessed by and be a blessing to each other. With love for you all. To family."

They seconded Legolas's words, softly, gently, each thinking of what they meant as they drank to it. And Legolas took Enguina's hand and kissed it, and Aragorn pressed his lips to Arwen's temple, and for the first time in a long time the focus was where it should be—rejoicing over what they had, building one another up in love, and remembering that Ilúvatar was in control and that even at the test He was _good_.


End file.
